Non Lupus Emarcuit
by sonderful
Summary: After a disastrous birthday and the abrupt departure of Edward, her vampire boyfriend, Miri finds comfort in deepening her relationship with Jacob Black. However her faithfulness is tested as she is drawn into a world of werewolves and the world of ancient vampires *New Moon *Edward/OC *Jacob/OC *Currently on hold while in school, not forgotten & abandoned*
1. Chapter 1

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Preface

 _I felt like I was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares, the one where you have to run, run until your lungs burst, but you can't make your body move fast enough. My legs seemed to move slower and slower as I fought my way through the callus crowd, but the hands on the huge clock tower didn't slow. With relentless, uncaring force, they returned inexorably toward the end—the end of everything._

 _But this wasn't a dream, this was nightmare. In my nightmare I wasn't racing to save my own life, I was racing to find someone._

 _Alice had said there was a good chance we would both die here. So that was a promising outcome. Hopefully the outcome would be different if she weren't trapped by the brilliant sunlight; only I was free to run across this bright, crowded square._

 _And I couldn't run fast enough._

 _So it didn't matter to me that we were surrounded by out extraordinarily dangerous enemies. As the clock began to toll out the hour, vibrating under the soles of my fucking slow feet, I knew I was too late—and there was something bloodthirsty was waiting in the fucking wings. If I failed at this; well I've lived a long-ish life._

 _The clock tolled again, and the sun beat down from the exact center point of the sky._

Chapter one: Party

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure I was dreaming.

The reasons I was so certain were that, first, I was standing in a bright shaft of sunlight—the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in Forks, Washington—and second, I was looking at my Grandmother Miriam. Grandma had been dead since before I was born, and I only knew what she looked like because of pictures, so there was solid evidence towards a dream.

Grammy hadn't changed much; I assumed. I'd never actually met her. Her face looked the same as it did in the pictures. Her skin was soft and weathered looking, bent into a thousand tiny creases that clung gently to the bone underneath. Like a dried apricot, but with a puff of thick white hair standing out in a cloud around it.

Our mouths—hers a wizened pucker—spread into the same surprised half-smile at just the same time. Apparently, she hadn't been expecting me, either.

I was about to ask her a question; I had so many—the first of which was 'What are you doing in my dream?' What had she been up to in the past seventeen years? Was Poppa okay, and had they found each other, wherever they were?—but she opened her mouth when I did, so I stopped to let her go first. She paused, too, and then we both smiled at the little awkwardness.

"Miri?"

It wasn't Grammy that called my name, and we both turned to see the addition to our small reunion. I didn't have to look anywhere to know who it was; this voice I would know anywhere—know, and be super annoyed that he was invading my personal space—like my dreams.

Edward.

Even though I was annoyed to see him—that fuck promised he stay away when I was asleep, we weren't joined at the hip—it was fucking crazy to see him walking in the sunlight.

I almost panicked because Grammy didn't know that I was dating a vampire—nobody knew, well except his family—so how was I supposed to explain the fact that the brilliant sunbeams were shattering off his skin making it angry, red, and bubbly.

 _Well, Grammy, you see you and my boyfriend have something cool in common. You've both been dead since before I was born. He's a vampire, he burns in the sun I know it's weird right, where's the fire. No but it's like a sun burn that becomes like a fire damage burn. Don't worry about it…_

What was he _doing_? The whole reason he lived in Forks, the rainiest place in the immediate area, was so that he could be outside in the daytime without exposing his family's secret. Yet, here he was, strolling gracefully toward—with the most pleasant smile on his face—as if I were the only one here.

In the second, I wished that I was not the one exception to his mysterious talent; I usually felt grateful that I was the only person whose thoughts he couldn't hear just as clearly as me, too, so that he could hear me tell him to get the fuck out of here.

I looked at Grammy, and saw that I was too late. She was turning to stare back at me, her eyes as alarmed as mine.

Edward—still smiling pleasantly—put his arm around my shoulder and turned to face my grandmother.

Grammy's expression surprised me. Instead of looking horrified, she was staring at me sheepishly, as if waiting for a scolding. And she was standing in such a strange way—one arm held awkwardly away from her body, stretched out and then curled around the air. Like she had her arm around someone I couldn't see, someone invisible…

Only then, as I looked at the bigger picture, did I notice the huge gilt frame that enclosed my grandmother's form. I couldn't comprehend that when I raised my hand that wasn't wrapped around Edward around Edward's waist and reached out to touch her. She mimicked the movement exactly, mirrored it. But where our fingers should have met, there was nothing but cold glass…

With a jolt, I realized my dream was a nightmare.

There was no Grammy.

That was me. Me in a mirror. Me—old as balls, creased, and withered.

Edward stood beside me, casting no reflection, excruciatingly lovely and forever seventeen.

He pressed his perfect lips against my wrinkled cheek.

"Happy birthday," I whispered.

…

I woke up with a start—my eyes pooping open wide—and gasped. Dull gray light, the familiar light of an overcast morning, took the place of the blinding sun in my dream.

 _Just a dream,_ I told myself. _It was only a dream_. I took a deep breath, and then jumped again when my alarm went off. The little calendar in the corner of the clock's display informed me that today was September thirteenth.

Only a dream, but a prophetic in one way, at least. Today was Edward's birthday. He was officially eighteen years old, at least to everyone else.

I'd been looking forward to this day for months.

All through the perfect summer—arguably one of the best summers in the history of entire world, and the rainiest summer in the recorded history of the Olympic Peninsula since 1912—this date had lurked in the ambush, waiting to spring.

And now that it had hit, I was going to do everything I could to make it awesome, and embarrassing—for him. I could feel it. He was officially, according to his most recent identity, eighteen.

Let the best birthday begin.

…

When I went to brush my teeth and put in my contacts, I scared myself because I wasn't cool and old and wrinkly. I stared at myself, looking for a sign of any creases along my milk-white skin. The only creases I had were on my forehead, and I knew if I could manage to stop making angry scrunched up faces that they would disappear. But my angry scrunched up angry face was patented, by me, and also I did it automatically and I couldn't stop it. I did my makeup, carefully, making sure it was perfect for today. I lined my whiskey-brown eyes, carefully, making sure it looked extra good for this special occasion.

I dry swallowed my birth control, in a hurry to get out of my house as quickly as possible. I wasn't entirely able to avoid my dad and Prissy, she'd moved in the middle of July, so I had to stay at the top of the stairs while they went down the stairs holding hands.

…

I struggled to get a grip on myself as I drove to school. First there was the weird vision of old me, I couldn't get it out of my head—I looked damn good at the unspecific age of old. I felt giddy as I pulled into the parking lot and into my unassigned assigned spot behind Forks High School. I spotted Edward leaning motionlessly against his polished silver Volvo, like a statue. Today, different from every other day, his Volvo had been graffiti'd with a bunch of 'Happy Birthday's' in chalkboard pens. And he was there waiting for _me_ , just the same as every other day.

Even with dating him for half a year, I still couldn't believe that I was actually dating him. Probably because he could get super Emo at times, and it was super annoying; and also because I had smelly, smelly blood.

His sister Alice was standing by his side, waiting for me, too.

Of course Edward and Alice weren't related (in Forks the story was that all the Cullen siblings were adopted by Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, both plainly too young to have teenage children), but their skin color was precisely the same shade, their eyes had the same strange golden tint. Her face, like his, was also beautiful. To someone in the know—like me—these similarities marked them for what they were.

The sight of Alice waiting there—her tawny eyes brilliant with excitement, and a small silver-wrapped square in her hands—made me frown. I'd told Alice that the present ambush was to be at his locker not in the parking lot. Obviously my wishes were being ignored.

I slammed the door of my '53 Chevy truck—a shower of rest specks fluttered down to the wet blacktop—and walked slowly toward where they waited. Alice skipped forward to me, her pixie face glowing under her spiky black hair.

"Happy birthday, Edward!" She said when I was close enough.

"Shh!" I hissed, glancing around the lot make sure no one had heard her. The last thing I wanted was the surprise was ruined.

She ignored me, "Do you think he'll want to open his present now or later?" She asked eagerly as we made our way to where Edward still waited.

"No presents yet." I reminded in a mumble.

She finally seemed to process my plan. "Okay…later, then. Do you think he'd want a scrapbook made? Carlisle got him a camera."

I grinned. Of course she would know what birthday presents everyone got him. Edward wasn't the only member of his family with unusal skills. Alice would have 'seen' what her parents were planning as soon as they'd decided that themselves.

"No, but I think we should do it anyway."

" _I_ think it's a nice idea. You're only a senior once. Might as well document it." She giggled.

"How many times have you been a senior?"

She grinned and shook her head.

We'd reached Edward then, and he held out his hand for mine. I took it eagerly, forgetting for a moment that he was going to be so embarrassed. He skin was always smooth and never clammy. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. I looked into his topaz eyes, and smiled. He smiled again.

He lifted his free hand and traced one cool fingertip around the outside of my lips as he spoke, "So, as discussed, you are not allowed to wish me a happy birthday, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." I gave him a small smile. "But I'm still gonna do it anyway!"

"Just checking." He ran his hand through his tousled bronze hair.

"You know some people actually enjoy their birthdays."

Alice laughed, and the sound was all silver, a wind chime. "Of course you'll enjoy it. Everyone is supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Edward. What's the worst that could happened?" She meant it as rhetorical question.

"Getting older," He answered anyway.

My smile turned into a hard line.

"Eighteen isn't very old." Alice said, innocently.

"It's not that much older than me." I acknowledged.

He sighed.

"Technically," She said, keeping her tone light. "Just by one year though."

I frowned, what the fuck were they getting at? Edward and I were both dead set against me being changed, but Alice saw it in the future.

An impasse, he called it.

I couldn't really see Alice's point, to be honest. What was so great about immortality? Being a human didn't suck that bad—I mean not the way the rich people lived, anyway.

"What time will you be at the house?" Alice continued, changing the subject. From her expression, she was up exactly the kind of thing Edward was hoping to avoid.

"I didn't know you had plans to be there." Edward said.

"Oh, be fair, Edward!" She complained. "You aren't going to ruin all our fun like that, are you?"

"I thought my birthday was about what _I_ want."

"I'll get her from Charlie's right after school," Alice told him, ignoring me altogether.

"Doesn't she have to work?" Edward protested.

"I don't actually," I told him, smugly. "I already took the day off. Mrs. Newton said to tell you 'Happy Birthday.'"

"S-She still can't come over," He stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "I, well, I haven't watched _Romeo and Juliet_ yet for English."

Alice snorted. "You have _Romeo and Juliet_ memorized."

"But Mr. Berty said we needed to see it performed to fully appreciate it—that's how Shakespeare intended it to be presented."

I rolled my eyes.

"You've already seen the movie," Alice accused.

"But not the nineteen-sixty version—with fake Zac Efron— Mr. Berty said it was the best."

Finally, Alice glared at Edward. I dropped my smug smile. "This can be easy, or this can be hard, Edward, but on way or another—"

I interrupted her threat. "Relax, Alice. If Edward wants to watch a movie, then he can. It's his birthday."

"So there." He added.

"I'll come over around seven," I continued. "That will give you more time to set up."

Alice's laughter chimed again. "Sounds good. See you tonight, Miri! It'll be fun, you'll see." She grinned at Edward—the wide smile exposed all her perfect, glistening teeth—then pecked her brother on the cheek and danced off to her first class before he could respond.

"Miri, please—" He started to beg, but I pressed my lips to his before he could finish.

"Let's discuss it later. We're going to be late for class."

…

No one bothered to stare at us as we took our usual seats in the back of the classroom (oddly, we had almost every class together now—it was amazing the favors Edward could get the female administrators to do for him). Edward and I had been together long enough now to be an object of gossip anymore. Even Mike Newton didn't bother to give me the glum stare that used to make me feel really guilty. He smiled now instead, and I was glad he seemed to have accepted that we could only be friends. Mike had changed over the summer—his face had lost some of the roundness, making his cheekbones more prominent, and he was wearing his pale blond hair a new way; instead of bristly, it was longer and gelled into a carefully casual disarray. It was easy to see where his inspiration came from—but Edward's look wasn't something that could be achieved through imitation.

…

As the day progressed, I considered ways Edward might try to get out of whatever was going down at the Cullen house tonight. It would be bad enough to have Emo-Sexy Eddie back, but if Emo Eddie was a constant downer during the day, he was sure to erupt in Emo-Loser-Eddie during presents.

I don't think he actually liked attention, by vampirism nature. No one wants a spotlight on them when they feel odd.

And he'd very pointedly asked—well, ordered really—that no one give him any presents this year. It looked like his parents and I weren't the only ones who'd decided to overlook that.

I'd never had much money, and that never bothered me. My mom, Renée, had raised me on a nail tech and starving artist salary. My dad, Charlie, wasn't getting rich at his job, either—he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Forks. My only personal income came from the three days a week I worked at the local sporting goods store. Most of the money I made went to a college fund.

Edward had a _lot_ of money—I didn't even want to think about how much. Money meant next to nothing to Edward or the rest of the Cullen's. It was just something that accumulated when you had unlimited time on your hands and a sister who had the uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market. Edward didn't seem to understand why I would object when he'd spend money on me—why it made me uncomfortable if he took me to an expensive restaurant in Seattle, he wasn't allowed to buy me a car that could reach speeds over sixty miles an hour, or why I wouldn't let him pay my college tuition. Edward that I was being unnecessarily difficult.

But how could I let him give me things when I couldn't do much to reciprocate with. If he bought me a car the only thing that would mean about the same, was to fuck him. And if I did that I would be a prostitute. Which would make me a lot of money, but there weren't a lot of rich people in Forks. I

…

As the day went on, neither Alice nor I brought up Edward's birthday again, and I knew he was beginning to relax.

We sat at our usual table for lunch.

A strange kind of truce existed at the table. The three of us—Edward, Alice, and I—sat on the extreme southern end of the table. Now that the "older" and somewhat scarier (in Emmett's case, certainly) Cullen siblings had graduated, Alice and Edward did not seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone. My other friends, Mike and Jessica (who were in an awkward post-breakup friendship phase, which pissed me off to no end because I was the one who set them up), Angela and Ben (whose relationship had survived the summer), Eric, Conner, Tyler, and Lauren (though she didn't really count in the friend category) all the sat at the same table, on the other side of an invisible line. That line dissolved on sunny days when Edward and Alice always skipped school, and the conversation would swell out effortlessly to include me.

Edward and Alice didn't find this minor ostracism odd or hurtful the way I would have. They barely noticed it. People always felt strangely ill at ease with the Cullens, almost afraid for some reason they couldn't explain to themselves. I was a rare exception to that rule. Sometimes it bothered Edward how comfortable I was being so close to him. He thought he was hazardous to my health—an opinion I rejected.

…

The afternoon passed quickly. School ended, and Edward walked me to my truck as he usually did. But this time, he held the passenger door open for me. Alice must have been taking his car home so that I could keep him from making a run for it.

…

He folded his arms and made no move to get out of the rain "It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?"

"I'm pretending it's not your birthday, just as you wished." I reminded him.

"If it's not my birthday, then you don't have to come my house tonight…"

"All right!" I shut the passenger door and walked past his to open the driver's side, "Happy birthday."

"Shh," He shushed me halfheartedly. I climbed in the opened door.

I played with the radio as Edward drove, he shook his head in disapproval.

"Your radio has horrible reception."

I frowned I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. It was a good truck—it had personality.

"If you want a nice radio, drive your own damn car." I was nervous about Alice's plan's, on top of mine, so my words came out sharper than I meant. I was hardly ever bad-tempered with Edward, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep him from smiling.

…

When he parked in front of my house, he reached over to take my face in his hands. He handled me very carefully, pressing just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, and my jawline. Like I was especially breakable. Which was exactly the case—compared with him, at least.

"You should be in a good mood, today of all days," I whispered.

"And if I don't want to be in a good mood?" His uneven breath fanned across my face.

"Too fucking bad."

I leaned in closer and pressed my lips to his. As I intended. I could feel him forget his worries, and concentrate on kissing me.

His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle, until I wrapped my arms around his neck, and our lips parted. I could feel his lips curve upward as he let go of me and reached back to unlock me from him.

Edward had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp teeth. We both tended to forget that last part though, especially when we boned.

"Be good, please." He breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and the pulled away, "We don't have anything in your car or room."

My heart thundered in my ears. "We're not going to bone in _a_ car." I said.

"Stranger things have happened." He said, a bit smug.

I rolled my eyes, "Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right, just like you wanted."

"Your wish, is my command."

…

Edward sprawled across the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding though the opening credits.

When I perched on the edge of the sofa in front of him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest; our cuddling position. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion would be, with his chest being hard, and perfect, but it was definitely preferable. He pulled the old afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over our legs.

"You know, I've never had much patience with Romeo," He commented wrapping his arms around me.

"What's wrong with Romeo?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, he's in love with this Rosaline—don't you think it makes him seem a little fickle? And then, a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet's cousin. That's not very smart. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly?"

I sighed, "Do you want to watch his alone?"

"No, I want to watch this with you." His fingers traced patterns across the skin of my arm, raising goose bumps. "Are you gonna cry?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "But then again, I'm not paying attention."

"I won't distract you then." But I felt his lips on the back of my neck, and it was very distracting.

As the movie progressed Edward began whispering Romeo's lines in my ear—his irresistible, velvet voice made fake Zac Efron voice sound weak and coarse by comparison. I didn't cry even when Juliet woke up to her husband dead.

"I'll admit, I do sort of envy him here," Edward said tickling me with a lock of my hair.

"Thanks, I'm sorry I'm _so_ ugly, and she's so pretty."

He made a disgusted sound, "I don't envy him and the _girl_ —just the ease of suicide," He clarified in a teasing tone. "You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plant extracts…"

"What?" I gasped.

"It's something I had to think about once, and I knew from Carlisle's experience that I wouldn't be simple. I'm not even sure how many ways Carlisle tried to off himself in the beginning…after he realized what he'd become…" His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. "And he's clearly still in excellent health."

I twisted around so that I could read his face. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, "What do you mean, this is something you had to think about once? Is being in a relationship with me that shit?"

"Last spring, when you were…nearly killed…" He paused to take a deep breath, struggling to return to his teasing tone. "Of course I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. Like I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for a human."

For a second, the memory of my penultimate trip to Ivywood washed through my head. I could see it all so clearly—the blinding sun, the heat waves comping off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic vampire who wanted to torture me to death. James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage—or so I'd thought. I hadn't known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn't known that I'd planned my own rescue; Edward made it in time, but it had been a close one. Unthinkingly, my hand reached across my chest to the scar on my shoulder blade.

I shook my head—as if I could shake away the bed memories—and tried to grasp what Edward meant. "Contingency plans?" I repeated. I moved my hand away from the scar.

"Well, I wasn't going to live without you." He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. "But I wasn't sure how to _do_ it—I knew Emmett and Jasper would never help… so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Volturi."

I didn't want to believe he was serious, but his golden eyes were brooding, focused on something far away in the distance as he contemplated ways to end his own life. I was furious.

"What is a _Volturi_?" I demanded.

"The Volturi are a family," He explained, his eyes still remote. "A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Carlisle lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America—do you remember the story?"

"Of course I remember."

I would never forget the first time I'd gone to his home, the huge white mansion buried deep in the forest beside the river, or the room where Carlisle—Edward's father in so many real ways—kept a wall of paintings that illustrated his personal history. The most vivid, mist wildly colorful canvas there, the largest, was from Carlisle's time in Italy. Of course I remembered the calm quartet of men, each with the exquisite face of a seraph, painted into the highest balcony overlooking the swirling mayhem of color. Though the painting was centuries old, Carlisle—the blond angel—remained unchanged. And I remembered the three others, Carlisle's early acquaintances. Edward had never used the name _Volturi_ for the trio, two black-haired, and one snow-white. He'd called them Aro, Caius, and Marcus, nighttime patrons of the arts…

"Anyway, you don't irritate the Volturi," Edward went on, interrupting my reverie. "Not unless you want to die—or whatever is we do." His voice was so calm, it made him sound almost bored by the prospect.

My anger turned to dismay. I took his face in my hands.

"You idiot. You must never kill yourself because of me. It's selfish, and stupid, and I'll hate you forever."

"I'll never put you in danger again, so it's a moot point."

" _Put_ me in danger! I thought we'd established that all that bullshit was bad luck?" The idea of Edward, killing himself for me, even if I was already dead, pissed me off.

"What would you do, if the situation were reversed?" He asked.

"Uh, well, for starters I wouldn't kill myself."

He didn't seem to understand what I was saying. He chuckled.

"What If something'd happened to you?" I asked, "Would you want me to go and off myself?"

A trace of pain touched his perfect features.

"I guess I see your point…a little," He admitted. "But what would I do without you?"

"First you would mourn, then you would go back to whatever you were doing before I came along and complicated your existence."

He sighed. "You make that sound so easy."

"It should be. I'm not really that interesting."

He was about to argue, but then he let it go. "Moot point," He reminded me. Abruptly he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching.

"My dad?" I guessed.

Edward smiled. After a moment, I heard the sound of the police cruiser pulling into the driveway. I reached out and took his hand firmly my dad could deal with that much.

He came in with a pizza box in his hands.

"Hey, kids." He grinned at me. "I thought you'd two like a break from cooking and washing dishes for your birthday, hungry?"

"Yes, sir." Edward said.

…

"Dad, I'm stealing Edward for the evening." I told him when we finished eating.

I looked at my dad hopefully. Maybe he had some concept of birthdays as stay-at-home, family affairs—this was Edward's first birthday with me, so he didn't know what to expect.

"That's fine—the Mariners are playing the Sox tonight," My dad explained, and my hope disappeared. "So I won't be any kind of company… Here. Your mom will want pictures of you two." He passed me my phone, and tossed it to me.

He ought to have known better than that—I'd always been coordination-challenged, especially when I wasn't paying attention. The phone flew towards me, as I attempted to grab it, it bounced off my wrist, and tumbled toward the floor. Edward snagged it before it could crash onto the linoleum.

"Nice save," My dad noted to Edward, then to me he said, "You know you're mom's going to want pictures of you—both you. Peach, seriously take pictures. Your mom emailed, she's been missing you since she had the baby. You know how she gets—she'll want pictures of you faster than you can take them."

I frowned, I couldn't believe he brought up my half-sister, Grace. Ever since my mom gave birth she'd been hounding me and Edward to send her pictures of ourselves so we could show my half-sister, and of course my mom.

"Good idea, Charlie." Edward said, handing me my phone.

I turned the phone and snapped a picture, "Smile, Birthday Boy."

My dad grinned. Hey, say hi to Alice for me. She hasn't been over in a while." My dad's mouth pulled down at one corner.

"It's been three days, Dad." I reminded him. My dad was a fan of Alice. He'd become a fan of her when she'd helped me through my awkward recovery, and summer school. My dad would be forever grateful to her for saving her from the horror of an almost-adult daughter who needed help getting in and out of the bath, _especially_ when Prissy was working. And as far as summer school, she was the one who helped me, mostly, get A's in most of my classes so I didn't have to retake them all. I only ended up taking two classes over during the summer. "I'll tell her."

"Okay, you kids have fun tonight." It was clearly a dismissal. My dad was already edging toward the living room and the TV.

I smiled, triumphant, and took Edward's hand to pull me from the kitchen.

…

When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger door for me again, and this time I didn't argue. I still had a hard time finding the obscure turnoff to his house in the dark.

Edward drove north through Forks, visibly chafing at the speed limit enforced by my prehistoric Chevy. The engine groaned even louder than usual as he pushed it over fifty.

"Take it easy." I warned him.

"You know what you would love? A nice little Audi coupe. Very quiet, lots of power."

"That's it, I'm not sleeping with you for a year." I turned my head defiantly.

"What? Come on?" He nudged me lightly.

"There's nothing wrong with my truck. And speaking of expensive nonessentials, you know if you know what's good for you, you'd stop talking about it, otherwise no birthday present. And it's a good one."

"Okay, so it won't be a birthday present. How about a happy Wednesday one?" He chuckled.

"No, I don't like it when you spend a lot of money on me."

"Okay, I won't spend a dime on you."

"Good."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"That depends on what it is."

He sighed, I turned back to look at him, "Miri, the last real birthday any of us had was Emmett in 1935. Cut us a little slack, and don't be too difficult tonight. They're all very excited that we're actually celebrating this year."

It surprised me a little bit, when he brought up things like this. "Fine, I'll behave."

"I probably should warn you…"

"Please do."

"When I say they're all excited…I do mean _all_ of them."

"Everyone?" I asked. "I thought Emmett and Rosalie were in Africa." The rest of Forks was under the impression that the older Cullens had gone off to Dartmouth, but I knew better.

"They wanted to be there, it's not every year I turn eighteen."

"You remember Rosalie hates me right?"

"She doesn't hate you, Peach. She just doesn't want to be alone with you. Don't worry, she'll be on her best behavior."

"Toe-mate-toe, toe-mah-toe." Unlike Alice, Edward's other "adopted" sister, the golden blonde and exquisite Rosalie, didn't like that much. As far as she was concerned, I assumed, I was just this smelly, smelly human who took her brother's virginity. I actually don't know if she knew that last part.

I felt guilty about the present situation, guessing that Rosalie and Emmett's prolonged absence was my fault, because I smelled _so good_ , and she hated me because she couldn't be around me without wanting to eat me. I know because Edward told me in confidence.

Edward decided to change the subject, "So, if you won't let me buy you an Audi for _my_ birthday, is there anything I can get you."

"It's your birthday! It should be about you! Not me. So what do you want?"

"I asked." A deep frown carved creases into his marble forehead. Obviously he wished he'd stuck to the subject of Rosalie.

It felt like we'd had this argument a lot today.

"No tonight, Peach."

"Well, then you're going to have a damn good birthday if it kills you."

Edward growled—a deep, menacing sound. "This isn't what I want for my birthday."

"I know." I rolled my eyes, "You want fuck in the car. Or in the meadow again. You just don't want to have this conversation."

I could swear I heard his teeth clench together.

…

We were pulling up to his house now. Bright light shinned from every window on the first two floors. A long line of glowing Japanese-style lanterns hung from the porch eaves, reflecting a soft radiance on the huge cedars that surrounded the house. Big bowls of flowers—pink roses—lined the wide stairs up to the front doors.

I shot Edward a sneaky smiled.

He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. "This is a party," He reminded me, and himself. "Try to be good."

"Sure, sure. Flower." I muttered.

He came around to get my door, and offered me his hand.

"I have a question."

He waited warily.

"Why do you show up in pictures?"

He started laughing, and pulled me out of his car and lifted me over his shoulders and twirled me. "You come up with the strangest questions!"

"Put me down and talk!" I laughed.

He placed me down gently. "Back when photos were developed carefully in a dark room, and cameras had silver in them, we didn't show up in photos." He broke off into a wide grin, "Now everything is digital."

He took my hand, and led me up the stairs laughing slightly as he opened the door for me.

…

They were all waiting for us in the huge white living room; when we walked through the door we were greeted with a loud chorus of "Happy Birthday , Edward!" while I took a party kazoo from Alice and joined the noise. He smiled and looked down. Alice, I think, conned everyone into decorating every flat surface with candles and dozens of crystal bowls willed with roses. There was a table with a white cloth draped over it next to Edward's grand piano, holding a white birthday cake, more roses, a stack of glass plates, and a small pile of silver-wrapped presents. It made my goofy birthday clown wrapped gift look childish.

It was a hundred times better than Alice and I had planned.

Edward, seeing my delight, wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the top of my forehead.

His parents, Carlisle and Esme—impossibly youthful and lovely as ever—were the closest to the door. Esme hugged me carefully, her soft, caramel-colored hair brushing against my cheek as she kissed my forehead, and then Carlisle put his arm around my shoulders.

"Thanks for planning all of this, Miri." He staged-whispered. "We were so happy to have you here help celebrate."

Rosalie and Emmett stood behind them. Rosalie didn't smile, but she didn't glare. Emmett's face was stretched into a huge grin. It had been months since I'd seen them; the last I had really seen Emmett was when a few months ago when Edward and I were getting hot and heavy in his room and Emmett threw a box of condoms at us. Rosalie looked beautiful, and Emmett was still the size of a fucking car.

"You haven't changed at all," Emmett said with mock disappointment. "I expected a perceptible difference, but here you are, same dorky kid."

"Thanks a lot, Emmett." Edward laughed.

He laughed, "I have step out of a second—" he paused to wink conspiratorially at Alice—"Don't try anything funny while I'm going."

"Miri said she'd walk into a wall once you left." Edward told his brother.

Alice let go of Jasper's hand and skipped forward, all her teeth sparkling in the bright light. Jasper smiled, too, but kept his distance. He leaned, long and blond, against the post at the foot of the stairs. During the days where we'd been holed up together in my mother's husband's apartment I'd thought he'd have gotten over his aversion towards me. But he'd gone back to exactly how he'd acted before—avoiding me as much as possible—the moment he was free from that temporary obligation to protect me; or whatever. I wasn't sensitive about it. Probably because he was newest to the Cullen fake-ass vegetarian diet, and had a little more trouble sticking to it. And my smelly, _smelly_ blood was just to fucking irresistible. Apparently.

"Time to open present!" Alice declared. She put her hand on my elbow and led Edward and me to the table with the cake and shiny packages.

Edward wore his emo-martyr face. "Alice, I know I told you I didn't want anything—"

"But I didn't listen, and Miri didn't either!" She interrupted smugly. "Open them!" She handed him a box and took an old Polaroid camera quickly snapped a picture of him. "By the way we're making a scrapbook."

The tag on the box said it was from Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper. I watched as Edward carefully removed the wrapping paper from the box, being _extra special careful_ not to rip it. Jesus, he was a fucking-save-the-wrapping-paper-guy.

"You're supposed to tear through the paper, Edward." Esme laughed.

"I'm saving it for the scrapbook!" Edward said indignantly.

After what felt like hour but was probably like fourteen seconds, he got the paper off the box entirely. It was definitely something electrical, with lots of numbers in the name. I watched him open the box, looking for the illumination. But the box was empty.

"You guys know I have a radio in my car, right?"

Rosalie cracked a smile, Jasper laughed. "It's a stereo for her truck." She explained. "Emmett's installing it right out."

"What?" I frowned, "You got him a stereo for my car? It's his birthday."

"He's being super bitchy about your lack of a decent music system in your truck. We couldn't take it anymore. And since you won't trade up, we've taken it into our own hands."

Edward laughed.

"Thanks? For getting Edward a birthday present for me, I think?"

"You're welcome." Emmett called from outside. I heard his booming laugh from my truck, and I couldn't help but laugh too.

"Open mine, Carlisle, and Esme's next!" Alice said, so excited that some dogs started barking; not really. But she was really fucking loud.

Edward turned to give me quizzical look, then took his present.

Emmett bounded through the door. "Just in time!" He crowed. He pushed in behind Jasper, who had also had drifted closer than usual to get a good look.

He opened this present carefully. And his face opened in surprise. "A gift card to the music store!" He said exuberantly.

Alice smiled brightly, "I knew you'd like it!"

"Next is my present." I said. Alice handed Edward the birthday clown wrapped present.

"Nice paper." Emmett laughed.

"Thanks man, I got it from your mom."

"That's cold, Miri."

Edward opened my present, careful of the wrapping paper.

"You made me a mixtape?" He asked incredulously, holding the CD case for everyone to see. " _High Enough – Damn Yankees_ , _I Want to Hold Your Hand – Beatles_ , _I Want You to Want Me – Cheap Trick_ , _Dream a Little Dream of Me – Cass Elliot_ , _At Last – Etta James_ , _Somewhere Out There—Linda Ronstadt_ , _Have I Told You Lately – Rod Stewart_ , _Straight Up – Paula Abdul_." He read, "Miri, you know I don't like Paula Abdul, she's not a strong singer."

"You love her, you listen her music all the time." I corrected. His special ringtone on my phone was _Straight Up_.

"She doesn't even dance with the animated cat in the official video, you've been watching the wrong one the entire time." He reminded me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's so sweet of you to make him a mixtape!" Alice cooed.

"I know, I'm adorable."

…

We sat down at the table as we got ready for cake and coffee. Coincidently I was sitting across from Alice and Jasper right next to Edward and the cake. Carlisle cut the cake in small, even slices.

"I didn't know you were a fan of pink roses." I remarked to Edward as Carlisle deposited cake on everyone's plate.

"When I was first turned Carlisle had a small house with a lot of pink roses in it, it was the first nice thing I saw when I woke up as a vampire."

Carlisle placed cake on Edward's and my plates. Then set the cake cutter down, and took his own seat.

"Let's all raise a glass. To Edward." Carlisle held up his mug, and the rest of us followed in suit.

I set my arm down and jerked it up again. "Ow fuck." There was a nice cut from radius to my ulna. Blood dribbled out from the cut, and before I knew it Alice had jumped over the table bringing plates, mugs, cutlery, and tablecloth with her as she crashed into my sending both of us on the ground, with her on top of me.

"Don't move," Alice whispered.

I listened as Jasper slammed into Edward, it sounded like crashing boulders in a rock slide.

There was another noise, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming from deep in Jasper's chest. Jasper shoved past Edward, snapping his teeth.

I heard Emmett grab Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but I heard Jasper struggle. I turned my head to look at Jasper as he struggled, his wild, empty eyes focused on me.

Though I was covered in coffee, cake, and shards of ceramic I could feel the eyes of six blood thirsty vampires on me.

…

So I'm late. No ragrets. I'm actually working a lot more hours and taking more shifts bc why tf not. I went on vacation last week and saw a meteor shower which was cool but would have been cooler if I hadn't been stuck in a four and half stand still bc a logging truck flipped over, and it was a two lane road. And no one died so it was inconvenient as hell. That makes me sound like emo-eddie but I need y'all to know that it was 10 pm and hot as hell, and I had a quarter tank of gas left. i guess you have to be there to understand. Please enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Chapter two: Stitches

Carlisle was the only one who remained calm. Centuries of experience in the emergency room were evident in authoritative voice.

"Emmett get Rose and Jasper out of here." He said.

Jasper struggled against Emmett's unbreakable grasp, twisting around, reaching toward his brother with his bared teeth, jagged and protruding from his gums, his eyes still past reason. Rosalie stood next to Emmett, she was frozen.

Edward was whiter than I'd ever seen him before, white like paper, as he wheeled t crouch over me, taking a clearly defensive position. A low warning growl slid from between his clenched teeth. I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

Esme helped Emmett as he led Rosalie and dragged Jasper out of the room. She had one hand over her mouth and nose.

Her face ashamed, "I'm so sorry, Miri." She cried as she followed the others into the yard.

"Let me by, Edward." Carlisle said calmly, "I need Alice's help, and she needs to be off Miri."

A second passed, and then Edward nodded slowly and relaxed is stance. Alice got off me.

Carlisle knelt beside me, leaning close to examine my arm. I could feel my face frozen in confusion.

"Here, Carlisle." Alice handed him a towel.

"Miri," Carlisle asked softly, "Do you want to me to drive you to the hospital, or would you like me to take care of it here?"

"Prissy's working." I whispered, if he took me there then she would be no way to keep this from my dad.

"I'll get your bag," Alice said.

"Let's take her to the kitchen table," Carlisle said to Edward

Edward lifted me effortlessly, while Carlisle kept pressure steady on my arm.

"How are you doing, Miri?" Carlisle asked.

"Fine." I said, my voice was a little high.

Edward was stone-faced.

Alice was there. Carlisle's black bag was already on the table, a small but brilliant desk light plugged into the wall, a small and brilliant desk light plugged into the wall. Edward sat me gently into a chair, and Carlisle pulled up another. He went to work at once.

Edward stood over me, still protective, still not breathing.

"Just go, Flower." I told him.

"I can handle it." He insisted, his jaw was rigid; his eyes burned intensely, because my smelly, smelly blood was so much smellier to him than the others.

"You don't need to be the hero." I told him, "Carlisle can fix me up without you standing guard. Get some fresh air."

I winced as Carlisle strayed my arm with something.

"I'll stay."

"Why are you so masochistic?" I asked.

Carlisle decided to intercede. "Edward, you may as well go find Jasper before he gets too far. I'm sure he's upset with himself, and I doubt he'll listen to anyone but you right now."

"Yes," I agreed, "Go find Jasper."

"You might as well do something useful." Alice added.

Edward's eyes narrowed as we ganged up on him, but, finally, he nodded once and sprinted smoothly through the kitchen's back door. I was sure he hadn't taken a breath since I'd sliced my arm.

A numb, dead feeling was spreading through my arm. Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. I could feel the faint stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to look like a wuss in front of other people. There was no pain now, just a gentle tugging sensation that I tried to ignore. No reason to be a pussy.

If she hadn't been in my line of sight, I wouldn't have noticed Alice give up and steal out of the room. With a tiny, apologetic smile on her lips, she disappeared through the kitchen doorway.

"Well, that's everyone. Good to know I can clear a room, at least."

"It's not your fault," Carlisle confronted me with a chuckle. "It could happen to anyone."

" _It could_. But it seems to happen to me a lot."

He laughed again.

His relaxed calm was only more amazing set in direct contrast with everyone else's reaction. I couldn't find any trace of anxiety on his face. He worked with quick, sure movements. The only besides our quiet breathing was the soft _plink, plink_ as the tiny fragments of ceramic dropped one by one to the table.

"How can you do this?" I asked. "Even Alice and Esme…" I trailed off, shaking my head. Though the rest of them had given up the traditional diet of vampires just as absolutely as Carlisle had, he was the only one who could bear the smell of my blood without suffering from the intense temptation. Clearly, this was much more difficult than he made it seem.

"Years and years of practice," He told me. "I barely notice the scent anymore."

"Do you think it would be harder if you took a sabbatical for a long time? And weren't around any blood."

"Maybe," He shrugged, but his hands remained steady. "I've never felt the need for an extended holiday." He flashed a brilliant smile in my direction. "I enjoy my work too much."

 _Plink, plink, plink_. I was surprised at how much ceramic and ceramic there was in me. I knew I wanted to look at the pile but if I did I would throw up.

"What is that you enjoy so much?" I asked, "Is it the blood?" I bet it's the blood. I mean, after all the years of struggle and self-denial to get to this point in his career, where he could endure this so easily. Besides, I wanted to keep him talking; the conversation kept my mind off the queasy feeling in my stomach.

His dark eyes were calm and thoughtful as he answered. "No it's not the blood. What I enjoy the very most is when my…enhanced abilities let me save someone who would have otherwise been lost. Its pleasant knowing that, thanks to what I can do, some people's lives are better because I exist. Even the sense of smell is a diagnostic tool at times." One side of his mouth pulled up in half a smile.

I mulled that over while he poked around, making sure all the ceramic splinters were gone. Then he rummaged in his bag for new tools, and I tried not to picture a needle and thread.

"You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault." I suggested while a new kind of tugging started at the edges of my skin. "What I mean is, it's not like you asked for this. You didn't choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so _hard_ to be good."

"I don't know what I'm making up for anything." He disagreed lightly, "Like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given."

"That makes it sound too easy."

He examined my arm again. "There," He said snipping a thread. "All done." He wiped an oversized Q-tip, dripping with some syrup-colored liquid, thoroughly across the operation site. The smell was strange; it made my head spin. The syrup stained my skin.

"In the beginning, though," I pressed while he taped another long piece of gauze securely in place, sealing it to my skin. "Why did you even think to try a different way than the obvious one?"

His lips turned up in a private smile. "Hasn't Edward told you this story, already?"

"Yes. But I'm trying to understand what you were thinking."

His faces was suddenly serious again, and I wondered if his thoughts had gone to the same place that mine had. Wondering what I would be thinking when—I refused to think _if_ —it was me.

"You know my father was a clergyman," He mused as he cleaned the table carefully, rubbing everything down with and then doing it again. The smell of alcohol burned in my nose. "He had a rather harsh view of the world, which I was already beginning to question before the time that I changed." Carlisle put all the dirty gauze and the ceramic slivers into an empty crystal bowl. I didn't understand what he was doing, even when he lit match. Then he threw it onto the alcohol-soaked fibers, and the sudden blaze made me jump.

"Sorry," He apologized. "That ought to do it…So I didn't agree with my father's particular brand of faith. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether a Lord exists in some form or the other. Not even the reflection in the mirror."

I pretended to examine the dressing on my arm to hide my surprise at the direction our conversation had taken. Religion was the last thing I expected, all things considered. I wasn't religious. My dad considered himself a Lutheran, some sort of Protestant—I think—but that's because his parents had been, but on Sundays he'd preferred to worship by the river with a fishing pole in his hand. My mom tired out a church now and then, but, much like her brief affairs with tennis, yoga, and French classes, she moved on by the time I was aware of the fad. We'd only celebrated Christmas for materialistic necessity. I think Prissy's agnostic, but I'm not sure.

"I'm sure all this sounds a little bizarre, coming from a vampire." He grinned. "But I'm hoping that there is still a point to this life, even for us. It's a long shot, I'll admit," He continued in an offhand voice. "By all accounts, we're damned regardless. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we'll get some measure of credit for trying."

"I don't think that's foolish." I mumbled. I couldn't imagine anyone, deity included, who wouldn't be impressed by Carlisle. Besides, the only kind of heaven _I_ could appreciate would have to include Paula Abdul with the dancing animated cat. "And I don't think anyone else would, either."

"Actually, you're the very first one to agree with me."

"The rest of them don't feel the same?" I asked, thinking of one person in general.

Carlisle guessed the direction of my thoughts again. "Edward's with me up to a point. The Lord and heaven exist…and so does hell. But he doesn't believe in there is an afterlife for our kind." Carlisle's voice was very soft; he stared out the big window over the sink, into the darkness. "You see, he thinks we've lost our souls."

I immediately thought of Edward's words this afternoon: _unless you want to die—or whatever it is that we do_. The lightbulb flicked on over my head.

"That's the real problem, isn't it?" I guessed. "That's why he's being so difficult about me."

Carlisle spoke slowly. "I look at my… _son_. His strength, his goodness, the brightness that shines out of him—and it only fuels that hope, that faith, more than ever. How could there not be more for one such as Edward?"

I nodded.

"But if I believed as he does…" He looked down at me with unfathomable eyes, "If you believed as he did. Could you take away _his_ soul?"

The way he phrased the question thwarted my answer.

If he'd asked me weather I would risk my soul for Edward, the reply would be obvious. But I risk Edward's soul? I pursed my lips unhappily. That wasn't a fair exchanged.

"You see the problem."

I shook my head, aware of the stubborn set of my chin.

Carlisle sighed.

"It's my choice.

"It's his, too." He held up his hand when he could see what I was about to argue. "Whether he is responsible for doing that to you."

"He's not the only one who can do it." I eyed Carlisle speculatively, wondering if he understood what I was saying.

He laughed, abruptly lightening the mood. "Oh, no! You're going to have to work this out with _him_." Okay, he thinks this is about vampirism; cool. He sighed, "That's the one part I can never be sure of I _think_ , in most other ways that I've done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom others to this life? I can't decide."

I didn't answer. I imagined what my life would be like if Carlisle had resisted the temptation to change his lonely existence…and shuddered.

"It was Edward's mother who made up my mind." Carlisle's voice was almost a whisper. He stared unseeingly out the black windows.

"His mother?" Whenever I'd asked Edward about his parents, he would merely say that they had died a long time ago, and his memories were vague. I realized Carlisle's memory of them, despite the brevity of their contact, would be perfectly clear.

"Yes. Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. His father. Edward Senior, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza. But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. Edward looks a great deal like her—she had that same strange bronze shade to her hair, and her eyes were exactly the same shade of green."

"His eyes were green?"

"Yes…" Carlisle's ocher eyes were a hundred years away. "Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was worse off than she was. When the end came for her, it was very quick. It was after sunset, and I'd arrived to relieve the doctors who'd been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend—there was so much work to be done, and I had no need to rest. How I hated to go back to my house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying.

"I went to check Elizabeth and her son first. I'd grown attached—always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans. I could see at once that she'd taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body too weak to fight anymore.

"She didn't look weak, though, when she glared up at me from her cot.

"'Save him!' she commanded me in the hoarse voice that was all her throat could manage.

"'I'll do everything in my power,' I promised her, taking her hand. The fever was so high, she probably couldn't even tell how unnaturally cold mine felt. Everything felt cold to her skin.

"'You must,' she insisted, clutching at my hand with enough strength that I wondered if she wouldn't pull through the crisis after all. Her eyes were had, like stones, like emeralds. 'You must do everything in _your_ power. Whaat others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.'

"It frightened me. She looked at me with those piercing eyes, and, for one instant, I felt certain that she knew my secret. Then the fever overwhelmed her, and she never regained consciousness. She died within an hour of making her demand.

"I'd spent decades considering the idea of creating a companion for myself. Just one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be, But I could never justify it to myself—doing what had been done to me.

"There Edward lay, dying. It was clear that he only had hours left. Beside him, his mother, her face somehow not yet peaceful, not even in death."

Carlisle saw it all again, his memory clear even by the intervening century. I could see it clearly, too, as he spoke—the despair of the hospital, the overwhelming atmosphere of death. Edward burning with fever his life slipping away with each tick of the clock…I shuddered again, and forced the picture from my mind.

"Elizabeth's words echoed in my head. How could she guess what I could do? Could anyone really want that for her son?

"I looked at Edward. Sick as he was, he was still beautiful. There was something pure and good about his face. The kind of face I would have wanted my son to have.

"After all those years of indecision, I simply acted on whim. I wheeled his mother to the morgue first, and then I came back for him. No one noticed that he was still breathing. There weren't enough hands, enough eyes, to keep track of half of what the patients needed. The morgue was empty—of the living, at least. I stole him out of the back door, and carried him across the rooftops back to my home.

"I wasn't sure what had to be done. I settled for recreating the wounds I'd received myself, so many centuries earlier in London. I felt bad about that alter. It was more painful and lingering than necessary. In the end, I remembered that both of us, my sire and I, had been cut in the struggled when he pounced on me. And that our blood must have mixed…

"I wasn't sorry, though. I've never been sorry that I saved Edward." He shook his head, coming back to the present. He smiled at me. "I suppose I should take you home now."

"I'll do that," Edward said. He came through the shadowy dining room, walking slowly for him. His face was smooth, unreadable, but there was something wrong with his eyes—something he was trying very hard to hide. I felt a spasm of unease in my stomach.

"Carlisle can take me," I said. I looked down at my shirt; the light blue cotton was soaked and spotted with my blood. My right should was covered in thick frosting.

"I fine." Edward said unemotionally. "You'll need to change anyway. You'd give Charlie a heart attack the way you look. I'll have Alice get you something." He strode out the kitchen door again.

I looked at Carlisle anxiously. "He's very upset."

"Yes," Carlisle agreed. "Tonight is exactly the kind of thing that he fears the most. You being put in danger, because of what we are."

"It's not his fault."

"It's not yours, either."

I looked away from his wise, beautiful eyes. I couldn't agree with that.

Carlisle offered me his hand and helped me up from the table. I followed him out into the main room. Esme had come back; she was mopping the floor where I'd been knocked over by Alice—with straight bleach from the smell of it.

"Esme, let me do that." I could feel my face was bright red again.

"I'm already done." She smiled up at me. "How do you feel?"

"Peachy," I assured her. "Carlisle sews faster than any other doctor I've had."

They both chuckled.

Alice and Edward came in the back doors. Alice hurried to my side, but Edward hung back, his face indecipherable.

"C'mon," Alice said, "I'll get you something less macabre to wear."

…

She found a shirt of Esme's that was close to the same color mine had been. My dad wouldn't notice, I was sure. The long white bandage on my arm didn't look nearly as serious when I was no longer spattered in gore. My dad was never surprised to see me bandaged.

"Alice," I whispered as she headed back to the door.

"Yes?" She kept her voice low, too, and looked at me curiously, her head cocked to the side.

"How bad is it?" I knew whispering was futile, but if I kept it vague enough, maybe… she would understand and no one else would.

Her face tensed, "I'm not sure yet."

"How's Jasper?"

She sighed, "He's unhappy with himself. It's all so much of a challenge for him, and he hates feeling weak."

"It's not his fault, I have such _smelly, smelly_ blood. Make sure he knows I'm not mad at him."

"Of course."

…

Edward was waiting for me by the front. As I got to the bottom of the staircase, he held it open without a word.

Esme and Carlisle both aid a quiet goodnight. I could see them stealing quick glances at their impassive son, much like I was. Alice reminded him to take his presents. Which made me sure that she knew I took her brothers virginity.

It was a relief to be outside; I hurried past the lanterns and the roses, now unwelcome reminders. Edward kept pace with me silently. He opened the passenger side for me, and I climbed in without complaint.

On the dashboard was a big red ribbon, stuck to the new stereo. He pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. He threw the ribbon into the shopping bag that I called my car trashcan.

He didn't look at me or the stereo. Neither of us switched it one, and the silence was intensified by the sudden thunder of the engine. He drove too fast down the dark, serpentine lane.

The silence was making me insane.

"We can have sex in the car," I finally begged as he turned onto the freeway. "I know we don't have any condoms in the car, but I'm on birth control and since you're technically dead I think it's safe to assume that you shoot blanks."

"Miri," He said in a detached voice.

"Come on, you've been asking for it for months. It's your birthday, let me give you a present you'll really enjoy." I bit my lip.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked in the same detached voice.

"Please, forgive me. I didn't mean for this to happen. I should have looked… I didn't mean to ruin your birthday like this." I blurted.

That brought a flicker of life to his face—a flicker of anger. "Forgive _you_? For what?"

"If I'd been more careful, nothing would have happened. If I just sat on the other side, it would have been fine."

"Miri, you put your arm down on a cake slicer—that hardly deserves the death penalty."

"It's still my fault."

My words opened a floodgate.

"Your fault? If you'd cut yourself at Mike Newton's house, with Jessica there and Angela and your other normal friends, the worst that could have happened would be what? Maybe they couldn't find you a bandage? If you'd tripped and knocked over a pile of ceramic plates on your own—without someone throwing you into them—even then, what's the worst that could happen? You'd get blood on the seats when they drove you to the emergency? Mike Newton could have held your hand while they switched you up—and he wouldn't be fighting the urge to kill you the whole time he was there—"

"It makes me feel good that you constantly want to kill me." I told him.

"Don't try to take any of this on yourself, Miri. It will only make me more disgusted with myself."

"How in the ever loving fuck did Mike-Fucking-Newton end up in this conversation?" I demanded.

"Mike Newton ended up in this conversation because Mike Newton would be a hell of a lot healthier for to be with," He growled.

"I'm not having sex with Mike Newton, I'm not in a relationship with Mike Newton." I reminded him, "I do not want to have sex with Mike Newton. I do not want to be in a relationship with Mike Newton. I want to have sex with you, not in a car honestly I did it once and it was uncomfortable. I like being in a relationship with you; you know when you're not emo."

"Don't be melodramatic, please."

"Well then, don't be emo then."

He didn't answer. He glared through the windshield, his expression blank.

…

I racked my brain for some way other way to salvage the evening. When he pulled up in front of my house, I still hadn't come up with anything.

He killed the engine, but his hands stayed clenched around the engine.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved close to him. He turned his head towards me. I leaned in a pressed my lips to his, our lips parted in tandem, and I felt his hands move from the steering wheel to my waist. I moved over so that I was perched just over the steering wheel, but my knees were pressed on the seat in between his spread legs.

I kissed his jaw, his neck, and lips. His hands moved from over my shirt to under my shirt, he unhooked my bra easily. And kissed my neck, jaw, and lips.

"Can I stay tonight?" He asked as I kissed his jaw.

"Maybe you should go home, after."

I really didn't want him to go and wallow in remorse but, hopefully, he would be so high on cloud nine after we finished he wouldn't wallow.

"For my birthday," He pressed.

"You can't have it both ways—either you want people to ignore your birthday or you don't. One or the other." I said sternly, but not serious.

"Okay. I've decided that I don't want you to ignore my birthday."

I pulled back from him and grinned, "I'll see you upstairs."

…

I quickly rehooked my bra, and hopped out of the truck. He frowned.

"What about in here?"

"That was only if you were leaving." I beckoned with my good arm, "I'll be waiting upstairs."

"You're evil." He sighed, and got out of the car too.

"Happy birthday," I sighed, and reached up on my toes to make the kiss last longer when he pulled away.

He smiled ruefully and then disappeared into the darkness.

…

The fame was still on; as soon as I walked through the front door I could hear the announcer rambling over the babble of the crowed.

"Peach?" My dad called.

"Hey, Dad." I said as I came around the corner. I held my arm close to my side. The slight pressure burned, and I wrinkled my nose. The anesthetic was apparently losing its effectiveness.

"How was it?" My Dad lounged across the sofa with his bare feet propped up on the arm. What was left of his curly brown hair was crushed flat on one side.

"Alice went overboard, you should have seen it. Flowers, cake, candles, presents—the whole bit."

"What did they get him?"

"A new stereo for my car."

" _Your_ car?"

"He always complains about my radio so they got pissed and gave me one to shut him up." I explained, "Well, I'm calling it a night."

"I'll see you in the morning." Dad said.

I waved, "'Night."

"What happened to your arm?" He asked concerned.

"Fuck," I cursed quietly. My dad tended to get on me for language, while my mom never cared. I really had to watch my mouth around him, "I put my arm on a cake slicer."

He got up from the couch, "Are you okay? Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"Doctor Cullen fixed me up." So much for my plan to not have him know, that went straight to hell.

"Take some Tylenol, honey." He stoked my hair gently, "You need to make sure you're careful, I'm going to reach my insurance deductible." He kissed me forehead, "Goodnight, Miri."

…

I hurried to the bathroom, where I kept my jammies, for nights such as these. I shrugged on my matching tank top and sleep shirt, I washed my face one-handed, brushed my teeth, and pulled out my contacts and replaced them with my glasses.

I dry swallowed a Tylenol like my dad suggested, then skidded to my room to meet Edward.

…

He was sitting in the center of my bed, toying idly with one of the silver boxes.

"Hi," He said.

I went to the bed, pushed the presents out of his hands, and climbed into his lap.

"Hi." I kissed his jaw. "Open your presents."

"What about my thing?" He wondered.

"You didn't finish."

"At this rate, I'm never gonna." He muttered.

"As soon as you finish your presents, you can finish." I picked up the long flat rectangle that must have been from Carlisle and Esme.

"Allow me." He took the gift from my hand and tore the silver paper off with one fluid movement.

"Lift the lid." I instructed.

Inside the box was a long thick piece of paper with an overwhelming amount of fine print. It took me a minute to get the gist of the information.

"We're going to Ivywood? Why?" I looked at the voucher for plane tickets, for both me and Edward.

"That's the idea."

"But it's _your_ birthday. You should be going someplace you want to go."

" _I_ want to go to Ivywood, I want to go with you. I know you've been missing your mom, and it makes me happy when you're happy."

"I can't believe it. You're out of your mind, Carlisle and Esme too. It's sunny, you'll have to stay inside all day."

"I think I can handle it," He said, "If I had any idea how much you complained I would have opened it in front of Carlisle and Esme."

"It's your birthday it should be about you. Not me."

"You're the reason I had the party," He said morosely, "You're my reason… How's your arm."

"Just fine." It was starting to hurt a little but the Tylenol would kick in any minute.

"I'll get you some Tylenol."

"I already took it." I reminded him, but not before he slid me off his lap and headed for the door.

"Oh."

"We have to be quiet, my dad's home." I hissed. He wasn't exactly aware that Edward stayed over. In fact, he would kill me if he knew that and knew Edward and I banged regularly. But did it stop me? No, because I'm an idiot. Did it make me feel guilty for lying, fuck yes.

"He won't catch us." Edward promised as he came closer to me. He met me with a kiss; "It's late. You should be in bed." He scooped me up off the bed with one arm, and pulled the cover back with the other. He put my head down on the pillow and pulled the blankets over us.

I felt a chill tingle along my spine.

…

I pulled the blankets off us when we were done. We both were breathing hard, me for necessary reasons.

I closed my eyes, satisfied.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispered.

I hesitated for a second, before I answered. "I was thinking about right and wrong, actually."

He paused.

"Remember how I decided that I wanted you to _not_ ignore my birthday?" He asked quickly.

"Yes?" I agreed, warily.

"Well, I was thinking, since it's still my birthday that… I want to kiss you again."

"You're greedy tonight."

"Yes, I am—but please don't do anything you don't want to do," He added, piqued. "I mean we already made love. But I like kissing you."

I laughed and opened my eyes, "Heaven forbid that I should do anything I don't want to do." I said, as he put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up to his.

"The kiss began the same as usual—Edward was careful as ever, and then of course something seemed to change. His lips became much more urgent, his free hand twisted into my hair and held my face securely to his. And, though my hands tangled in his hair, too, and we were both beginning to cross cautious lines. His body was still warm, from being under the blankets and fucking. Still we crushed ourselves against each other eagerly.

I collapsed back onto my pillow, gasping. Something tugged at memory, elusive, on the edges.

"Sorry," He said, and he was breathless, too. "That was too much."

" _I_ don't mind." I panted.

He frowned at me in the darkness, "Try to sleep, Miri."

"I will."

"I just really want to kiss you again." He said.

"You're overestimating our self-control." I reminded him, "Speaking of which—which is more tempting for you, my smelly, _smelly_ blood or my body?"

"It's a tie." He grinned briefly in spite of himself, and then serious again. "Now, why don't you stop pushing your luck and go to sleep?"

"Pushing _my luck_?" I snuggled closer to him. I was tired, in so many ways, yet there was something nagging at me. It was a silly premonition—what could be worse than today? Just the shock catching up with me, no doubt.

…

I was halfway asleep, maybe more, when I realized what his kiss had reminded me of: last spring when he'd kissed me goodbye, not knowing when—or if—we would see each other again. That kiss had been unromantic. This kiss had a similar edge to it, for whatever reason. I shuddered into unconsciousness, as if I were already having a nightmare.

…

Okay so im really late, the reason is I'm working about 22 hours a week and in school and recently got some really bad news concerning my family life, so it's a bit early and updates are already and have always been bad at updating. Im just reminding you that updates will be slower than usual. This doesn't mean im not continuing I'm just taking it a day at a time. Please stay with me and enjoy, sorry again. 


	3. Chapter 3

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Chapter 3: The End

I felt absolutely fugly in the morning. I hadn't slept well; my arm burned and my head ached. It didn't help my outlook that Edward's face was smooth and remote as he kissed my lips quickly and ducked out my window. Of course, I'd let him spend the night… it was his birthday after all. Anxiety seemed to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head. I knew what was right and wrong, and I knew what I had to do… I just wasn't sure it was exactly what I wanted.

…

Edward was waiting for me at school, as usual, but his face was all wrong. There was something buried in his eyes that I couldn't be sure of—I wondered if he knew. I didn't want to bring up last night, but if I was going to avoid the subject it was going to be worse.

He opened my door for me.

"How do you feel, Peach?"

"Fine, Flower." I lied, jumping slightly at the sound of the slammed door.

We walked in silence, he shortened his stride to match mine. He held my hand tightly. There were many questions I wanted to ask, but they were mostly for Alice: How was Jasper this morning? What had they said when I was gone? What had Rosalie said? And most importantly, what could she see happening now in her strange visions? Could she guess what Edward was thinking, why he was so gloomy? And I had to talk to Esme.

…

The morning passed slowly. I was impatient to see Alice, though, I wouldn't be really able to talk to her with Edward there. Edward remained aloof. Occasionally he would ask about my arm, but mostly he sat as close to me as possible.

Alice usually beat me to lunch; she had little patience for such _a slow walker_. But she wasn't at the table, waiting with a tray of food she would barely eat.

…

Edward didn't say anything about her absence. I wondered to myself if her class was running late—until I saw Conner and Ben, who were in her fourth hour French class.

"Where's Alice?" I asked Edward.

He looked at the pretzel balls and granola bars he was slowly eating while he answered. "She's with Jasper."

"Is he okay?"

"He's gone away for a while."

"What? Where?"

Edward shrugged, "Nowhere in particular."

"And Alice, too?" I said. Of course, if Jasper needed her, she would go.

"Yes, she'll be gone for a while. She was trying to convince him to go to Denali."

Denali was where the one other band of unique vampires—good ones like the Cullens—lived. Tanya and her family. I'd heard of them now and again. Edward had run into them last winter when my very presence made him uncomfortable. Laurent, the most civilized member of James's little murder Triad, had gone there rather than siding with James against the Cullens. It made sense for Alice to encourage Jasper to go there.

I swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. The guilt made my head bow and slump. I'd run them out of their home, just like Rosalie and Emmett.

"Is your arm bothering you?" He asked, wrapping his arm around and me holding me close.

"Who cares?" I murmured.

He didn't answer, and I put my head against his chest.

…

By the end of the day, the silence was becoming ridiculous. I didn't want to be the one to break it, but apparently that was my only choice if I ever wanted him to talk to me again.

"Come over later tonight, please." I asked as he walked with me—silently—to my truck. He always come over.

"Later?" He sounded surprised.

"I have work, I had to trade with Mrs. Newton to get yesterday off."

"Oh." He muttered.

"So you'll come over when I'm home, though, right?" I hated how I suddenly felt unsure about this.

"If you want me too."

"Of course I want you too." I reminded him, "Maybe not the whole night—but I always want you there."

I expected him to smile, or laugh, or react somehow.

"All right, then." He said indifferently.

He kissed my lips again before he shut the door on me. Then he turned his back and loped gracefully toward his own car.

…

I was able to drive out of the parking lot before the panic really hit. I had this burning feeling in the back of my throat by the time I got to Newton's.

I just needed time, I kept telling myself. I just needed to get over this. Maybe _he_ was sad because his family was disappearing. But Alice and Jasper would come back soon, and Rosalie and Emmett, too. It would help that I would stay away from the big white house on the river—I'd never set foot there again. I'd see Alice again at school, she would come back… right? And she was at my place all the time. She wouldn't want to hurt my Dad's feelings by staying away.

No doubt I would run into Esme and Carlisle regularly—in the emergency room. When I went over to pick Prissy up from work, usually after she had worked a twenty four hour shift and didn't trust herself to drive home in her car.

After all, noting _had_ happened last night. So I fell down—I mean really, who doesn't accidently slice their arm open on a cake cutter and get knocked out of their chair by a vampire because the other vampires in the room want to eat you because you have smelly, _smelly_ blood that smells like honey suckle and cucumber melon or whatever. Story of my life. I mean compared to last spring when I almost actually _did_ die, I was fine. Since James had left me all bloody and concussed and kind of dead. But Edward had handled that pretty well—as well as murdering another murderous vampire goes—he did handle my rehabilitation and hospital stay so much better than this. He was probably bitchy because it was his brother and I was the enemy… and you can't really be mad at someone who you willing gave your special flower.

Maybe it _would_ be better if we spent time away from each other. Rather than his family separating; we did. The panic subsided as I envisioned my life sans Edward for a couple of days; I would have way more alone time. And I would be able to spend more time with my friends without them being weary of Edward. We could probably last through the rest of the semester, or the rest of the school year. My dad wouldn't object. Then, maybe, we could reunite when we went away to college, or grad school, or pretend that's what we were doing. Surely, Edward would understand. What was a year like to an immortal? What was a normal human lifespan compared to an immortal? It didn't seem like that to me.

…

I was able to compose myself to walk into the store. Mike had beaten me today, and he smiled and waved when I came in, I was still in my school clothes and had to change into my uniform, I smiled and made my way to the bathroom. When I emerged I had vivid fantasies of myself running my own salon, or Edward and me in college together.

…

Mike interrupted my fantasies while we stocked the shelves.

"How was Cullen's birthday?" He asked, he'd been making an effort to be friendly.

"Well," I twisted the jar of protein powder to the label showed, "I'm glad it's over."

Mike looked at me from the corners of his eyes like I was crazy.

…

Work dragged; the good thing about being a day stocker is that I knew where everything went, could listen to my music, or talk to Mike, with little to no interaction between me and customers. I wanted to see Edward again, praying that he would be past his mood and open to talk, by the time I saw him again. It's nothing, I told myself over and over as I listened rock and roll music while I worked.

…

The relief I felt when I turned onto my street and saw Edward's silver car parked in front of my house was an overwhelming, heady thing. And it bothered me deeply that it felt that way.

I hurried to the front door, calling out before I was completely inside.

"Dad? Prissy? Edward?"

As I spoke, I could hear the distinctive theme music from ESPN's SportsCenter coming from the family room.

"In here," Charlie called.

I hung my raincoat on its peg and hurried around the corner.

Edward was in the armchair, my father and Prissy cuddling on the sofa. Both, Edward and my Dad, had their eyes glued on the TV, Prissy was reading a book. The focus was normal for my Dad and Prissy. Not so much for Edward.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey, Peaches," My dad answere, his eyes moved to me briefly. "We just had some pizza. I think it's in the fridge."

"Okay."

I hovered in the doorway. Finally, Edward looked over at me with the polite smile, "I'll be right behind you." He promised. His eyes strayed back to the TV.

I hovered for a second, before turning. Neither one seemed to notice. I could feel something, relief maybe, crumbling a panic wall in my chest. I escaped to the kitchen.

…

The lukewarm pizza held no interest for me. Since we didn't have a flash freezer I took to nuking it in the microwave.

I sat in my chair, pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them. Something was very wrong, maybe more wrong than I'd realized. The sounds of male bonding and banter continued from the TV set.

I tried to control myself, my stomach growled anticipating the pizza. Maybe he knew. He probably did. He always knew, like reading my mind or something. Not that he actually read my mind, he could only read snippets.

 _Okay_ I thought again, _what's the wrost that could happen. He'll leave? That's probably for the best… he would be back in Denali—most likely—anything that happens. I would survive, last spring was proof to that._ That wasn't my favorite memory or reasoning, but it was all I had. It was one of the possibilities I had thought of today.

Staying away from the rest of the Cullens would be easy enough. Rosalie and Emmett didn't go to FHS anymore. Jasper would avoid me like the plague. Alice would force herself to stay away. Esme and Carlisle would be cordial at the hospital or the grocery store or wherever I ran into them. I could live with that.

Or going away. Maybe he wouldn't want to wait till the end of the school year, maybe it would have to be now.

…

In front of me, on the table, letters and packages from my mom updating me about my new-half sibling and her insisting that she missed me; or whatever. I touched one of the boxes, no hearts this time, she must have been sleep deprived. Somehow, living without her as long as I had not make the idea of a more permanent separation easier. I still hated her husband though. And my dad and Prissy would be all alone here, abandoned. Well not really, the house has been fuller ever since Prissy moved in this summer. They all would be so hurt, if I left…

But we'd come back, if we ran away together, right? If Alice saw me being a vampire, still. We would have to come back and visit, wouldn't we?

I didn't have the answer. The microwave dinged and I got my pizza out of there. I chewed absently, leaning my cheek against my palm, staring at the tokens of my mother's love. I felt myself at a cross roads, one that I didn't want to be at. And, I was thinking of a worst case scenario, but I've always been a worse scenario myself.

I dropped the pizza on the plate; and opened the box, full of new winter clothes. I had complained to my mother the last time I had seen her (at the end of August) that it was colder than I realized in Forks and I needed more cardigans. Inside the box was mostly cardigans, sweaters, and sweatshirts. I chuckled to myself, thinking that even though she had a new born to take care of, that she still went out of her way to go to my favorite store and get me the sweaters I had talked about a month ago.

So much had changed, and so abruptly. It made me feel about dizzy, like I was standing still and the whole world was spinning around me. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I grabbed the sweaters and headed up the stairs.

…

My room hadn't changed that much in seventeen years my mother had been here. The walls had changed from a peachy-orange to light green, the same yellowed lace curtains hung in front of the window. There was a double bed rather than a crib, but my mom would recognize the sand-colored quilt draped untidily over top of my bed—a gift from Grammy before she died.

Regardless, I plopped down on my bed and took a bite of pizza. There wasn't much I could do—it was too dark outside—and Edward was down stairs watching SportsCenter with my dad; also I had pizza to eat; so fucking Edward would _not_ take priority.

…

As when life was as uncertain as it was now. I had issues living in this uncertain point in my life now.

…

I took my time coming back down stairs, empty plate in hand, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I thought of the strange distance I saw in Edward's eyes. He and I would get over this. Probably, he was worried that I would be mad at him if I asked him to leave, or something. I'm not even sure he wanted to be here today.

…

I placed my plate in the sink. I had my phone out (ready to take a picture) as I leaned around the corner, being _super sneaky_. I was sure there was no chance of being caught and that my flash was off. When Edward turned around catching me by surprise, he didn't look up. I felt an involuntary shiver as ice slid down my spine. I ignored it and took the picture anyway. It flashed, so I hadn't done a very good job of turning the flash off.

They both looked at me then. My dad frowned, Prissy didn't look up from her book. Edward's face was empty.

"What are you doing, Peach?" Dad asked.

"Oh, come on." I smiled as I sat down on the floor near the sofa where Dad and Prissy lounged. "Mom sends me, like, three letters and a package and you expect me to give nothing in return? Her feelings will be hurt if I don't give her something in return."

"Why are taking pictures of me, then?" My Dad grumbled.

I sucked my teeth, "So she misses Forks."

He mumbled a curse word.

"Hey Prissy, will you take a picture of me and my dad together?"

She nodded and took my phone from me, "You need to smile, Charlie."

My dad sighed, but smiled at his (live-in) girlfriend. I smiled too. Prissy touched the phone, and the camera flashed.

"Now, one of you and Edward." Prissy ordered.

I got up and stood behind Edward, the arraignment felt foreign and strange. He put one hand lightly on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm more securely around his waist. I wanted to look at his face, but it would throw the focus of the picture off.

"Smile, Miri." Edward reminded.

"I am!"

The flash blinded me; "Hold on—I think I blinked."

Another blinding flash.

"Enough pictures for tonight," My Dad said. Prissy handed my phone back to me.

Edward dropped his hand from my shoulder and twisted casually out of my arm. He sat back down in the armchair.

I hesitated, then went to sit against the sofa again. I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on top of my knees and stared at the TV screen in front of me, seeing nothing.

…

When I show ended, I had only changed my positon to sitting cris-cross-apple-sauce. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward stand.

"I'd better get home." He said.

My dad didn't look up from the commercial. "See ya."

I got up awkwardly, ass first, and followed Edward out the front door. He went straight to his car.

"Are you going to stay?" I asked, even though I knew his answer.

"Not tonight." He said, I didn't need a reason.

…

He got in his car and drove away while I stood there. I started to rain, so I went inside.

It was a long night, with little in the way of rest.

…

I got up as soon as there was a faint light outside my window, I had slept the superficial sleep—I could understand, now, whatever Edward was talking about when he said he and his family on slept superficially.

I got dressed for school; in jeans, whatever old rock band shirt, I touched first, in my closet, and my rain boots. I took my birth control and went outside—there was so much green, in the timelessness mysterious woods.

I put my bag in my truck and left for school.

…

Edward walked silently beside, never seeming to look at me. I concentrated on my classes, but even English was boring. Mr. Berty was talking about Lady Capulet and had to repeat a question twice before I realized he was talking to me. Edward chuckled under his breath, when I blinked owl-eyed at Mr. Berty before answering him.

…

At lunch, the silence continued. I felt like I was going to start screaming, so I leaned across the table's invisible line and spoke to Jess.

"Hey, Jess?"

"What's up, Miri?" She asked.

"Can I ask a favor?"

She nodded.

"I need change for a five, I want to get Skittles from the machine, but I don't want a thousand quarters back."

She reached into her wallet and gave me five ones in exchange for my five.

I went to the vending machine and got two bags of Skittles, one for me and one for Jess. She took the extra bag with a smile.

…

After school Edward walked me back to the parking lot in silence. I had to work again, and for once I was glad. Time away from Edward would be better than just having a shadow.

…

At home I quickly said I to my dad, grabbed some cold pizza and went to my room.

I sat in the middle of my bed, wrapped in one of my blankets, and opened my laptop and uploaded the pictures I took of Edward and my dad. I gasped as I saw the first couple of pictures. Edward looked as hot as he did in real life, but like in real life there was a new coldness in his eyes; at least in the last couple of pictures. The first couple of ones he had a warmth in his eyes. His golden eyes shinned with amusement. The others had the new coldness, like the one I took of him in the arm chair. His eyes were careful and reserved.

The last picture of us, the one where we were standing awkwardly next to each other. Edward still had the reservation clear on his face, but the terrible part was I looked like shit. Well, actually, I looked like I had worked a long shift and wasn't in the mood to do anything else. I deleted it from my laptop. I didn't want my mom to see me like that.

I knew Edward wasn't going to come over tonight, the way he acted in class made that clear, so I did the bare minimum of my homework and went to sleep.

…

Again I didn't sleep well.

School followed in the same frustrating pattern of the last two days, it was a little different because today, I put on my glasses instead of contacts. I felt a little relieved when I saw Edward waiting in the parking lot for me.

His birthday seemed like a distant memory, all this mess from what felt like a life time ago. I wanted Alice to come back soon. I had talked to Esme yesterday, she'd needed new camping equipment for the next camping trip, at length about my relationship with Edward. She listened carefully and agreed wholeheartedly with me. I needed to clean this mess soon.

I couldn't just count on the perfect timing, I had to make it myself. I mean, I had to do something.

After school, Edward and I were going to talk it out, I promised myself. I wasn't accepting excuses.

…

He walked me to my truck, and steeled myself to make demands.

"Do you mind if I come over today?" He asked before we got to the truck, beating to the punch.

"Of course not." I said, my resolve gone.

"Now?" He asked again, opening my door for me.

"Sure," I tried to keep myself from sounded too surprised, "I was going to pick up my paycheck. I'll meet you there."

He looked at me. He reached over and kissed me gently. "I'll beat you there." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Okay." I agreed, he shut the door and headed toward his car.

…

He did beat me home. He was parked in my Dad's spot, which meant he wouldn't even try to persuade me to let him stay over.

He got out of his car when I stepped out of the truck, and came to meet me. He reached to take my book bag from me. That was normal. But he shoved it back onto the seat. That was not so normal.

"Come for a walk with me." He asked, unemotionally, taking my hand. I nodded.

I couldn't think of a way to protest. He had no idea that I wanted to break up with him today… _This was bad, this was very bad_. He had no idea I was going to break is heart today. I didn't want to break up with him, I loved him, but I gave him one more chance when we first started dating. And the other night was his last chance… it wasn't his fault, really. But I just couldn't be in a relationship with him anymore. I had to end it.

He didn't wait for answer from me. He pulled me along toward the east side of the yard, where the forest encroached. I followed, 'cause he had my hand. It was what I wanted—to end it.

We had gone only a few steps into the trees when he stopped. We were barely on the trail—I could still see the house.

Some walk.

Edward leaned against a tree and stared at me, his expression unreadable.

"Okay, let's talk," I said. My voice shaky, I'd never broken up with someone before.

With Kevin, the first boy I'd ever dated, I just stopped talking to him after our first sexual encounter. It was awkward; Kevin was a mouth breather and we did the deed because we didn't have anything to talk about. We'd had sex in the front seat because the backseat was taken up by his cello. My only experience with breaking up with someone was just stop talking to them.

He took a breath.

"Miri; we're leaving."

I took a breath too. This was an acceptable option—I couldn't break up with him while he tried to break up with me.

"Why now? Why not next year, after you all graduate?"

"Miri, it's time. How much longer can we stay in Forks, after all? Carlisle can barely pass for thirty, and he's claiming to be thirty-three now. We'd have to start over soon regardless."

His answer confused me. I thought I point of leaving was for his family to live in peace, but uprooting the family seemed to be more chaotic or than peaceful.

He stared at me coolly.

"Isn't that more chaotic?"

"My family…" He started.

"Don't, okay? I don't need a reason."

"I mean, my family and myself." Each word distinct.

"I get it, okay." I shook my head, trying to make it clear. He waited without any sign of importance.

"So Carlisle passes for thirty-three?"

"Miri, please don't make this harder. I just want you to know, that where we're going isn't going to be the right place for us."

"So where are you going that isn't right for us?" I asked, "Is it Denali?"

"I'm not good for you, Miri." He said, "Anywhere we're together, isn't good for you."

I said nothing.

"My world isn't for you." He continued, grimly.

"What happened with Jasper—that was a fluke." Why was I talking like this, I also wanted to break up with him.

"I know, but I can't let it happen again."

"In Ivywood, you said you would stay—" I stopped.

"As long as it was best for you." He caught my words where I trailed off.

"I know." I looked at him, "I love you, you know."

He took a deep breath and stared, unseeingly, at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisted the tiniest bit. When he finally looked up, his eyes were different, harder.

"Miri, I know. I love you too. But I don't want you to come with us. I can't risk getting you hurt again." He spoke his words slowly and precisely, watching me as I absorbed his information.

There was a pause as I repeated the words in my head a few times, he loved but he didn't want me to get hurt again.

"So you don't want me." I tested the words.

"No."

I stared at him, confusion visible on my face. He stared back without apology. His eyes like topaz now—hard and clear and very deep. I could see into them for miles and miles, but there was no deepness.

"Well, that changes things, doesn't it?" I was surprised by how calm and reasonable I sounded. Not that I shouldn't. I was planning on dumping him too, doesn't mean I wasn't heartbroken myself. My heart had broken from the moment I had realized I wanted to end things with him.

He looked into the trees as he spoke again. "Of course, I'll always love you… in a way. But what happened other night made me realize that it's time for a change. Because I'm… _tired_ of pretending to be something I'm not, Miri. I'm not human." He looked back at me, the icy panes of his perfect facer were _not_ human. "We've let this go on much too long, and I'm sorry for that."

"Don't." My voice was just above a whisper now. "Don't be sorry."

He stared at me, and I could see from his eyes that he would always be sorry.

"You're not good for me, Miri." He turned is earlier words around so I had no argument, "You've given so much already, I don't want you to give me your life."

I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He waited patiently, his face whipped clean of emotion. I tried again.

"If… this is what you want…" I said slowly.

He nodded once.

I felt numb.

"I want to ask one favor, though, if that's not too much." He said.

"No, I will not give you a break up blow job." I tried to joke, but it fell flat.

Something flickered across his face, but before I could tell if I was despair or laughter, he composed his features into the same serene mask.

"Okay," I tried again, "Anything."

As I watched, his frozen eyes melt, his gold eyes became a molting liquid, burning into mine.

"Don't do anything stupid or reckless," He ordered, no longer detached. "Do you understand what 'm saying?"

I nodded, "Yeah, don't fall down a well."

His eyes cooled, "Miri, please."

"Okay, I won't do anything stupid."

"I'm think of Charlie, of course, and Prissy. They need you. Take care of yourself—for him."

I nodded again. "Of course, I will."

He seemed to relax a bit.

"And I'll make a promise in return," he said, "I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back though. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed."

I looked at him, with a terrified expression on my face.

He smiled gently, "Don't worry. You're human—your memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all wounds for your kind."

"And you?" I asked. I sounded like I was chocking.

"Well"—He hesitated for a short second-"I won't forget. But _my_ kind… we're very easily distracted." He smiled; the smile was tranquil and it didn't touch his eyes.

He took a step away from me, " _I don't want to talk about it anymore._ _It's a shame I've got to live without you anymore_."

"Are you quoting the Damn Yankees song from the mix tape I made you?"

"Yes, that's _everything,_ I wanted to tell you. We won't be bothering you again."

The plural caught my attention. That surprised, I don't know why, he did say 'we'.

"Alice isn't coming back."

He shook his head slowly.

"No. They're all gone. I stayed behind to tell you goodbye."

"Alice is really gone?"

"She wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced her that a clean break would be better for you."

My head was spinning. His words swirled around my head. I heard the words the doctor said in the Ivywood hospital as he showed me the X-rays. _You can see it's a clean break,_ his finger traced along the picture of my severed bone. _That's good. It will heal more easily, and a lot quicker._

I held my breath for a moment.

"Goodbye, Miri." He said in a quiet voice.

"Wait!" I choked out the word. In my version of the break up I was supposed paraphrase Paula Abdul, _let me straight up tell you that I'm gonna love you forever_ , _but we have to break up. We're a hit and run_.

He reached for me. His cold hands locked around my wrists and pinned them to my sides. He leaned down, and pressed his lips very lightly to mine for the briefest instant. My eyes closed.

"Take care of yourself," He breathed, cool against my skin.

There was a light unnatural breeze. My eyes snapped open. The leaves on a small vine maple shuddered with the gentle wind of his passage.

He was gone.

…

With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest. The evidence of his path had disappeared instantly. There were no footprints, the leaves were still shaking again, but I walked forward about thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over.

"Asshole! Come back! I'm not finished with you yet!" I shouted.

…

I walked and walked. Time made no sense as I pushed slowly through the thick underground. It felt like hours passing, but also only seconds. Maybe it felt like time had frozen because the forest looked the same no matter how far I went. I started to worry that I was going in a circle, I was still looking for Edward, but I was also looking for my home. I stumbled often, more because my spatial reasoning was nil in a place where I had no idea where I was.

It grew darker and darker, until finally I tripped over something, probably a branch—it was too dark to tell. I stayed down, because my glasses flew off of my face in the fall, and I had to pat the wet bracken to find them.

…

As I searched, I had a feeling that more time was passing then I realized. Honestly, the worst part of losing my glasses was the fact that I needed my glasses to find them. I couldn't remember how long it had been since nightfall. As rule, some of the moon light _had_ to filter down through the clouds and the chinks in the canopy of the trees, and find the ground, so I could find my glasses.

Not tonight though. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight—a lunar eclipse, a new moon.

A new moon, I shivered as my hands touched a wet leaf.

Someone was shouting my name. It was muted, muffled by the wet growth the surrounded me. Still no glasses. But whoever was shouting, was definitely shouting my name. I didn't recognize the voice. I thought about answering, but I was on my knees searching for my glasses so any shout I gave would be directed at the ground.

…

Sometime later, I'd moved a few feet further, but then it started raining. The rain bothered me a lot, mostly because it meant I would get muddy; and my glasses would be gone forever.

I heard someone calling again. It was farther away this time, and sometimes it sounded like several voices were calling at once. I pat the ground in frustration. I knew I should answer, but I didn't want to lose my place searching for my glasses. And I since I couldn't see, I wouldn't be able to continue my search and rescue, and shout at the same time.

There was another sound, startling close. A kind of snuffling, an animal sound. It sounded big. I began to feel afraid. It'd didn't matter, though, the snuffling went away.

The rain continued my and I could feel the water pooling up against my palms. I tried to sweep across the ground to gage the location of my glasses. There was a new light that gave me more headway for my search.

At first it was just a dim glow shining through the trees. It grew brighter and brighter, illuminating a large space unlike a focused beam of a flashlight. There was a light; that broke through the closest brush, and I couldn't see what it was, just a shining, blurry, orb of light.

"Miri?"

The voice was deep and unfamiliar but full of recognition. He wasn't calling my name to search, but acknowledging that I was found.

I stared up at him—squinting—at the blurry face I couldn't see above me. The stranger probably looked so tall because I was still on the ground.

"Have you been hurt?"

I knew what he was getting at, some freak was patting the ground has got to have been hurt.

"Uh, no." _Pat, pat, pat._

"Miri, my name is Sam Uley."

"Congratulations." There was nothing familiar about his name.

"Charlie sent me too look for you."

My dad, damn, that struck a chord, and I tried to empathize. If nothing else, my dad mattered.

He held out a hand, I think. I could barely see. I squinted, not sure what I was supposed to be looking at. In a quick and supple motion, he pulled me up from the ground and into his arms.

"Put me down! I need to find my glasses!"

"Jinkies, Velma." He set me down, swung the lamp. In a couple a seconds he had found my glasses and handed that to me.

"It's taken me _hours!_ " I bitched and put my glasses, "And don't make fun of my pants." Scooby Doo leggings, the only appropriate type pants to wear at all.

He scooped me up again.

"Hey! Put me down." What is with people picking me up!

He ignored me, as he sloped swiftly through the wet forest.

…

It didn't seem like too much time had passed before there were lights and deep babble of many male voices. Sam Uley slowed as he approached the common.

"I've got her." He called in a booming voice.

The babble ceased, and then picked up again with more intensity. A confusing swirl of faces moved over me. My frown (and general angry face) deepened. Sam's voice was the only one that made sense in the chaos, perhaps because he was closest to me.

"No, I don't think she's hurt." He told someone.

"No, I'm fine." I repeated.

"She keeps saying that."

"Miri, honey, are you all right?"

That was one voice I dreaded, I would know it anywhere.

"Hi, dad." I said in a small voice.

"I'm right here, Peachy."

There was a shifting under me, followed by the leathery smell of my dad's sheriff jacket. My dad staggered under my weight.

"Can I get let go?" I asked.

"Maybe I should hold on to her." Sam Uley suggested at the same time.

"I've got her." Dad said, a little breathless.

"I can walk!" I said.

My dad walked a couple of steps before he let me walk.

…

It felt like a parade, well a funeral procession.

"We're almost home now, Peachy." My dad would mumble now and again.

"I know." I mumbled back.

…

You know the feeling when you're driving and all the sudden you're on the street before the street before your house? And every moment—every road you've just driven didn't register, like you have no memory of driving that familiar route? But you, obviously had too, otherwise you wouldn't be two streets away from your house. I felt like that. I watched my dad unlock the door.

We were on the porch of our house, my dad and me. And Sam who was holding the door for my dad and me. He also had his arm out, like he was prepping to catch us if we fell.

My dad managed to lead me around to get us through the door and onto the couch in the living room.

"Dad, I am all wet." I protested.

"That doesn't matter." His voice was gruff. And then he was talking to someone else. "Blankets are in the cupboard at the top of the stairs."

"Miri?" A new voice asked. I looked at the gray-haired man leaning over me, and recognition came after a few seconds.

"Dr. Gerandy?" I asked.

"That's right, dear." He said. "Are you hurt, Miri?"

It took me a minute to think about it, _had I been hurt?_ The memory of Sam's question nagged at me: _Have you been hurt?_ He'd asked something so similar. The difference seemed significant.

Dr. Gerandy was waiting. One grizzled eyebrow rose, and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened.

"I'm not hurt." I said, I looked down and felt my brows furrow, "I'm an idiot who should have worn contacts."

He chuckled, his yellowed teeth showing. His warm hand touched my forehead and his fingers pressed against the inside of my wrist. I watched is lips as he counted to himself, his eyes on his watch.

"What happened to you?" He asked casually.

I froze under his warm hand, tasting panic in the back of my throat. "What," I gulped.

"Did you get lost in the woods?" He prodded. I was aware of several other people listening. Three tall men with dark faces—from La Push, the Quileute Indian reservation down on the coastline, I guessed—Sam Uley among them, were standing very close together and staring at me. Mr. Newton was there with Mike and Mr. Weber, Angela's dad; they were all watching me more surreptitiously than the strangers. Other deep voices rumbled from the kitchen and outside the front door. Half the town must have been looking for me… oops.

My dad was the closest. He leaned in to hear my answer.

"Yes, I went for a walk, tripped, and lost my glasses." I said softly.

The doctor nodded, thoughtful, his fingers probing gently against the glands under my jaw. My dad's face hardened.

"Do you feel tired?" Dr. Gerandy asked.

I nodded slowly.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with her," Dr. Gerandy muttered to Charlie, "Just exhaustion. Let her sleep it off, and I'll come check on her tomorrow." He paused and looked at his watch. "Well, later today actually.

…

The couch creaked as they both pushed off to their feet.

"Is it true?" My dad whispered. Their voices hard to hear. "Did they leave?"

"Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything." Dr. Gerandy offered.

"You know Priscilla is a gossip." My dad said.

Dr. Gerandy sighed, "There was an offer, very sudden, and they had to choose immediately. Carlisle didn't want to make a big production of leaving."

"A little warning would have been nice." Dad grumbled.

Dr. Gerandy sounded uncomfortable when he replied, "Yes, well, in this situation some warning might have been called for."

I didn't want to listen to anyone. I felt around for the edge of the quilt someone had laid on top of me, and pulled it over my ears.

I drifted in and out of alertness. I heard my dad whisper thanks to the volunteers as, one by one, they left. I felt his fingers on my forehead and then the weight of another blanket. The phone rang a few times, and he hurried to catch it before it could wake me. He muttered reassurances in a low voice to the callers.

"Yeah, we found her. She's okay. She lost got lost. She's fine now," He said again and again.

I heard the springs in the armchair groan as he settled himself in for the night.

…

A few minutes later, the phone rang again.

My dad moaned as he struggled to his feet, and then he rushed, stumbling, to the kitchen. I pulled my head deeper under the blankets, not wanting to listen to the same conversation again.

"Yeah," My dad said, and yawned.

His voice changed, it was more alert when he spoke again. "Where?" There was a pause. "You're sure it's outside the reservation?" Another short pause, "But what could be burning out _there_?" He sounded both worried and mystified. "Look, I'll call down there and check it out."

I listened with more interest because if I have one fault, it's my interest in drama and gossip. I haven't really been able to enjoy DRAMA and gossip here in Forks because it's been about me, like, 85% of the time, and the other 15% there was nothing good! I heard my dad punch another number.

"Hey, Billy, it's Charlie—sorry I'm calling so early… no, she's fine. She's sleeping…. Thanks, but that's not why I called. I just got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn't really….Oh!" There was an edge to his voice—irritation…or anger, I didn't know he barely used more than three tones with me. "And why are they doing that? Uh huh. Really?" He said it sarcastically. "Well, don't apologize to _me._ Yeah, yeah. Just make sure the flames don't spread…I know, I know, I'm surprised they got them lit at all in this weather."

Charlie hesitated, and then added grudgingly. "Thanks for sending Sam and the other boys. You were right—they do know the forest better than we do. It was Sam who found her, so I owe you one… Yeah, Priscilla is working a double on Sunday so no seven layer dip. I'll talk to you later." He agreed, still sour, before hanging up.

My dad muttered something incoherent as he shuffled back to the living room.

"What's wrong?" I asked, unable to feign sleep and stay away from the drama.

He hurried to my side.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Peachy."

"What's on fire?"

"It's nothing," He assured me. "Just some bonfires out on the cliffs."

"Bonfire?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

My dad frowned. "Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy," He explained.

"Why?" I wondered.

I could tell he didn't want to answer. He looked at the floor and his knees. "They're celebrating the news." His tone was bitter.

There was only one piece of news I could think of, try as I might not to; and then the pieces snapped together. "Because the Cullens left," I asked. "They don't like the Cullens in La Push—I'd forgotten that."

The Quileutes had their superstitions about the 'cold ones', the blood-drinkers that were enemies of their tribe, just like they had their legends of the great flood and wolf-men ancestors. Just stories, folklore, to most of them. Then there were the few that believed. My dad's good friend Billy Black believed, though even though Jacob, his own son, thought he was full of shit. Billy had warned me to stay away from the Cullens…something I considered before sleeping with Edward…or something…

The name stirred something inside me, something that began to claw its way toward the surface, something I knew I didn't want to face.

"It's ridiculous." My dad spluttered.

We sat in silence for a moment. The sky was no longer black outside the window. Somewhere between the rain; the sun was beginning to rise.

"Miriam?" My dad asked.

I looked up at him, when he used my real name it meant the serious tone, 1 of the 3 tones he used with me.

"He left you alone in the woods?" Charlie guessed.

"How did you know where to find me?" I deflected, shying away from the inevitable awareness that was coming quickly now.

"Your note." My dad answered, surprised. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a much-abused Post-It Note. It was dirty and crumpled, with multiple creases from being opened and refolded so many times. He unfolded it again, and held it up as evidence. The messy handwriting was remarkably close to my own.

 _Going for a walk with Edward, up the path,_ it said. _Back soon, M_.

"When you didn't come back, I called the Cullens, and no one answered," My dad said in a low voice. "Then I called the hospital and Priscilla told me the Carlisle was gone."

"Where did they go?" I asked.

He stared at me, "Didn't Edward tell you?"

I shook my head, recoiling. The sound of his name unleashed the thing that was burning in my stomach.

My dad eyed me doubtfully as he answered, "Carlisle took a job with a big hospital in Los Angeles. I guess they threw a lot of money at him."

Sunny L.A. The last place they would really go. I remembered my nightmare with the mirror…the bright sunlight shimmering off his skin—

I felt my throat burn, with the memory of that dream.

"I want to know if Edward left you alone out there in the middle of the woods." My dad insisted.

Fuck.

His name sent another wave of fire through me. I shook my head, frantic, desperate to escape. "Fuck."

My dad shot me look but didn't say anything.

"It was my fault. He left me on the trail, in sight of the house… but I tried to follow him, to yell at him… but I tripped and my glasses fell off, and I like the frames so I had to find them."

My dad started to say something; "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Dad. I want to go to my room."

Before he could answer, I scrambled up from the couch and lurched my way up the stairs.

…

Someone had been in the house to leave a note for my dad, a note that would leave him to find me. From the minute I'd realized this, a horrible suspicion began to grow in my head. I rushed to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me before I ran to the CD player by my bed.

Everything looked exactly the same as I'd left it. I pressed down the top of the CD player. The latch unhooked, and the lid slowly swung open.

It was empty.

Grams and Gramps newest album my mom had given me sat on the floor beside the bed, just where I'd put it last. I lifted the cover carefully.

I didn't have to flip any farther than the first page. The little metal corners no longer held a picture in a place. The page was blank except for Alice's handwriting scrawled at the bottom of the Polaroid (a hobby she'd started over the summer): _Edward and Miri, Edward's Room, July 7_ _th_.

I stopped there. One of the Cullens ripped the picture away from the bottom part, and left me with the bottom part. They took the picture. I'm sure he would have been very thorough, or at least made sure that one of them was thorough.

 _It will be as if I'd never existed,_ he'd promised me.

Bastard took the picture that captured my good angle. No, that's not right I have all good angles. Bastard took the picture the captured him at his good angle and me at my usual perfection.

…

I clutched Molly Dolly, I wished to feint… to sleep. But to my disappointment, I didn't lose consciousness. The waves of post-dump pain lapped over me before, now it was high tide.

…

I fought to resurface.

…

Haha guess who speaks limited French and doesn't know how long a couple days to a week is! This moi! Still on Semi- Hiatus! But I'm working slowly, but surely! Still editing, and still working, still got the puppies. I've taught one of the babies to give kisses when you push her nosy, like a button. You didn't the get pun that I made at my puppers expense! And you probably never will, bc she is a private baby, she doesn't even have an insta. So im still editing Semper, and writing this and my other M rated fic called Of Wolves and Wisdom! Read it and rate it too! Also you'll notice that I took down the author's notes/ update I wrote on Miri's b-day because that's not story related! Im graduating (not high school, think older) in a couple months so reminder that updates will be few and far between! Also just an update that the October through January chapters will be filled with snapshots of Miri and Charlie and Prissy's life, including an introduction to a new character! Another OC that I made up! YAAYy. So I can't just update the fic with those days, bc that's boring, dah-ling. And im also changing canon to bring a closer and realistic relationship to Jake and Miri, and also to Edward and Miri. Enjoy! Don't forget to leave reviews!


	4. OCTOBER

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

OCTOBER

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: October

What's up pwussy boi! Weher you at? It's been like 20 days since ive seen you. And I know you've been getting my texts bc you have read receipts on. whats up with the radio silence? Is a little blood really that repulsive? Ok im kidding email me back.

Miri

…

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: October part deux

Flower, okay I get it. You hate it when I type like a millennial. I understand. But you've been ignoring me and that's fucking rude man. You can't just dump me, leave me in the woods, and offer no explanation. Or I guess you can. This is my first real break up and im not sure how this works. I miss you.

Peach

…

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: October part trois

Email me back. I miss you.

…

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Va bien comme ça, grossier

That means 'fine be that way, rude'. Ive actually been studying if you can believe it. i forgive jasper for almost killing me it wasn't his fault. I just have some really smelly, smelly blood. Can you come back to forks again, please?

M

…

To: Edward Cullen ECullen me . com

From: Me RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: rain again

It's raining again. I'm going to stop begging you to come back. I don't want you back if you feel guilty, or feel like I emotionally manipulated you into coming back. But I'm not done with you. I still want you in my life. I still want to talk to you. So that's what im going to do. Reply or don't. read the emails or don't. I don't care. I just want to talk to you.

M

…

Please note: all the emails are not real I made them up, if they are real they are not connected to this fic please don't try to email anything to these address thinking they are going to somehow get to me. (not that I think im important to email but I just want to clarify and not get…sued. just in case)

Hey guys sorry for the really long sabbatical. I really appreciate you guys staying interested and letting me school. And since its almost august you deserve an explanation—ive been blocked so I wasn't sure if the writing that I was doing for OCTOBER was good enough but that didn't stop the ideas, and today I finally got what I feel is a good idea so I wrote it down and im really happy with it. So I just want to clarify that the October/January chapters will be short but full of plot info and story lines of what miri did while Edward was being grumpy and emo. These chapters will be full of drabbles in email and story form. October just takes place in email form. See you soon with NOVEMBER.


	5. NOVEMBER

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

NOVEMBER

To: Edward Cullen: ECullen me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: November

Its almost midterms; ive been studying really hard, but im super nervous about it. my dad and prissy have been talking about their wedding plans. I told you they got engaged right? I know you know she moved in to my house. But they're thinking of after the wedding, moving into a new house. i can't believe they're finally engaged after being together for 7 years. The fact that he didn't tell me about her for 3 years and then I didn't officially meet her until last January. I know I don't have the patience for that … not that I ever thought we were going to get married or anything… but you didn't keep me in the dark about the vampy thing… for long at least.

M

…

To: Edward Cullen: ECullen me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: nsa is listening

I just realized that email isn't a secure place to discuss your _affliction_ you know bc the government listnes to our conversations. And to answer your question yes I stayed up late watching conspiracy videos… they were… _enlightening_. Consider this, it's the lonely virgin in his moms basement that knows the truth. Its 3 am.

Im going to sleep 'night vampy boy

M

…

To: Edward Cullen: ECulle me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC

Subject: wooooohoooooo

Okay, so theres this sports ball game on so my dad and I are headed to Billy and Jacob Blacks place so my dad and Billy can get drunk (cause it's the game and he hasn't had a drink since the fourth of july, and prissy is working like 72 hours in a row, bc of hospital understaffing) and jake and I are going to hang out and watch the 2 hour season premier of MASTER CHEF JR! I cant wiat! Okay I'll tell you my fave kid after the premier.

M

…

"Hey, Charlie." Billy nodded at my dad, "Miri—Jake's down in his room setting up the TV."

I walked into the foyer of Jake and Billy's home with my dad behind me.

"Jake's downstairs in the basement—his room. He's got a bunch of stuff set up for you two." Billy told me.

"Okay, thanks. Enjoy the game."

…

"Hey, Miri." Jake said in that sympathetic 'don't hurt the baby' voice. It was the voice that had been really pissing me off. "How you doing?"

"I'm; fine?" I said descending the stairs.

"Yeah? That's good." The same bullshit sympathetic voice that everyone was using.

"Hey, man can you not talk to me like that?"

"I'm talking to you like I normally would." Jake said in the same sympathetic tone.

"No, you're speaking to me like you're sorry for me."

"No, I'm not!" Jake said, his tone changed.

"Yeah, you are, you don't have to hang out with me and watch Master Chef Jr because you're sorry for me. We can go watch the game. Or I can leave. I don't want your pity because my ex dumped me and I got left in the woods."

Jake nodded, "My dad said that you're _fragile_ since he dumped you, and he didn't want you to be alone and depressed."

"Yeah, my dad's convinced I'm depressed. Even though I've told him a thousand times that I was going to dump Emo Eddie that day."

"You were going to dump _him_?" Something in Jacobs's voice changed, he sounded almost… happy that I said that.

"Well yeah, but I let him talk first."

Jake and I walked toward the couch.

"I didn't know that."

"That's because no one thinks I'm telling the truth, all my friends are like 'Sure Miri.' It's annoying as hell."

"Well, you deserve a treat, for being so brave. And also dealing with people who are assholes."

"A treat? What kind of treat?"

"The best kind." Jake walked up the stairs and disappeared.

I looked around his room, he had a large bed on the floor with grey plaid bedding and dark blue sheets. He had a stack of magazines next to his bed, they were covered like they were his bedside table. His lamp, alarm clock, phone charger, and miscellaneous trinkets covered the cover of the top magazine. His walls were covered in classic and foreign cars, motorcycles, car and motorcycle blue prints, a Quileute tribal tapestry above his bed, and many sports player jerseys covering his wall. The jerseys were many different colors and they were just pinned over each other they all showed some numbers on the back. There was also a dart board on one of his walls, a picture of Edward was on it with many holes in it; weirdly though Jacob was also in the picture giving Edward the finger. The Jacob in the picture was perfectly intact.

Across from Jacobs bed was his couch, which I was standing next too. It was old, brown, and looked extremely comfortable. He had an old fraying Quileute design rug with a wooden coffee table on top. His coffee table was close to his couch and it looked like it doubled as his desk because of all the school books, school related papers, and his laptop on it. He had a big, old TV as well, however it was tricked out based on the sound system and cable attachment.

I heard Jacob clomp down the stairs, "Miri, close your eyes!"

I closed my eyes.

"Okay, open them!" He sounded right in front of me.

I opened my eyes to see Jake with a large grin and holding several bottles, a couple of six packs, and four red Solo cups. "What'cha got there?"

"All my friends are assholes except Jake because he's cool in a bottle."

"There's got to be a shorter name for that."

"Yeah! Vodka and beer." Jake and I moved to the couch and sat down.

Jake placed the bottles, six packs, and cups on the table. Then moved his school stuff off the table onto the floor by the dart board. Then he went back to the table and arranged the cups. He placed two cups next to each other, then the other two cups next to each other. He filled one cup each from the two sets with beer and the other with vodka; then he placed the open vodka to the side and the rest of the beer next to the vodka.

"So here's the game we take a sip of beer every time a contestant uses a word we don't know; i.e. food terminology. There's a food pun, every time the judges are covered in food, every time a judge has to step in and help, or there's pressure of time. We finish our drink every time there is full on tears. Someone says something along the lines of 'never stop cooking', or someone mentions Master Chef. We take a shot every time Gordon says 'Stunning' or 'wow', one of the judge's pauses dramatically when tasting a food item, the kids are put into teams, Gordon says 'damn', or they cut to commercial before the ending of a completion or a during a dramatic scene during the competition. As an added bonus for us who ever guesses the correct winner of the completion doesn't have to take an extra shot the loser does, if our picks both lose we both take a shot." Jake grinned, "Sound good?"

I sat next to Jake as he turned on the TV to Master Chef Jr, "Sounds good."

…

" _Five minutes, guys." Gordon said._

"One, two, three!" Jake and I said in unison tapping the shot glasses on the table then throwing our heads back as we drank.

"What comes next! What comes next?" I asked Jake slapping his shoulder incessantly.

Jake burst out laughing, "Okay, okay, so we take a drink if the kid we hate takes wins, a shot if the kid we loves wins, and if a kid we don't care about wins we take two shots."

"No, this isn't the end of the show, man. It's just the end of the challenge!"

" _Time's up." Gordon said and we watched as the kids jump back from their counters with their hands up, a spatula fell to the ground._

We took a shot when, Ellie, the girl we hated presented her dish and got compliments. We took another shot when the boy we liked, Ian, won the challenge. We stomped our feet, drumroll-ing, when the announced the dish for the elimination. At this point we were just drinking for fun.

I jumped up in satisfaction when I guessed the right elimination meal—po'boys.

I jumped in front of the TV during the commercials.

"Who guessed it! Who guessed it! I guessed it!" I did the Macarena, my one solid dance move.

Jake put his foot on the table and burst out laughing. "Nice job, Whiskey."

"Who the fuck is Whiskey?" I said throwing my hands up on my head for the head part of the Macarena.

"You." Jake tossed back another shot.

"Cheater," I put my hands out, starting the dance over again, "OW! Holy shit, I've been stabbed."

"What the fuck?!" Jake said alarmed. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

"No, I've been stabbed!" I clutched the side of my boob.

"What the fuck happened?" Jake jumped off the couch, stumbling over his feet, "Are you okay? Are bleeding?"

"My bra fucking broke, I've got underwire between my ribs!" I held my side tight, "I'm dying!"

"You're not dying." Jake said unamused, but still amused.

I slipped my arms back into my shirt leaving the arm sleeves of my shirt empty, I unhooked the bra, and put my arms back in the sleeves, with one hand holding the bra as I brought my hand through the hand end of the arm hole, and showed Jake the exposed underwire. "Look," I said shoving it in his face, "See, knife in my tit."

"It's a dull little poker." He tapped the bra.

"I was stabbed." I tossed the bra onto his bed, "Doesn't really matter anyhow that bra is evil anyways."

"What?"

"It was eighty dollars from Victoria's Secret."

"That makes it evil."

"No." I went over to his bed, as he followed me, "Look." I held it up to him, "It's black so I can only wear it with this shirt," With one hand I held onto the bra, with the other I gestured to my Slayer long-sleeved t-shirt. "The lace is super annoying because I have to hand wash and hang to dry. "

"Is that what makes it evil?"

"No. What makes it evil is the fact that I've had it 6 months and it's already broken." I threw it back on the bed.

"It cost eighty dollars and it didn't even last a year?" Jake brushed some hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, at least you don't have one." I tickled Jake.

He jumped back laughing, "That's cheating!"

He launched himself at me, throwing me onto the bed, and tickling me mercilessly.

My legs kicked out, but Jake was too my side, nowhere near my legs.

"You!" I gasped in-between laughs, "Ass!" Another laugh. "Dick-bag!" Laugh. "Jerk!"

Jake stopped tickling me for a second, "It's rude to call people names Miri."

I caught my breath, "Hang on, my stupid bra is stabbing me again." I adjusted, throwing my front in his face. "Haha! Got you!" I threw the bra in his face and tackled him off the bed straddling him.

With the bra in his face he was stuck; frozen, as I tackled him, tickling him.

Jake threw the bra off his face and I stopped tickling him.

His hand slowly slid from where he held my elbow up my arm, across my shoulder, around my neck. His thumb stroked my cheek and I leaned down. My lips brushed against his gently at first and we stopped. His other hand held my hip. I leaned into his lips again and this time our lips parted. I tasted the vodka on his lips and the hops on his tongue, the same flavors I'm sure he tasted on me. The hand cradling my cheek moved to my waist.

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"Yes." He breathed; he moved my shirt up exposing my stomach. I put my hands on top of his and took my shirt the rest of the way off.

"This is the alcohol, you know. We don't have too. I don't—" His right hand moved up my stomach leaving a trail of goosebumps as he gently touched my—

"I want too." I pressed my lips back against his; parting our lips again—tasting him again.

We moved back to his bed, and he got on top of me and took his shirt off.

We continued slowly as we—

…

To: Jacob Black: MotorcycleJake me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Last Night

J—

I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I shouldn't have slept with you. You're too important to me as a friend. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't regret what we did, but it can't happen again. I'm sorry if I upset you.

Please don't hate me,

M

…

To: Miri Swan: RisingSun me . com

From: Jacob Black: MotorcycleJake me. Com

BCC/ CC:

Subject: Re: Last Night

Miri,

Okay. You're too important to me too. If you only see me as a friend that's okay. You and him just broke up. I don't regret what we did last night either. You didn't upset me. You didn't hurt me.

I don't hate you. I could never hate you,

Jake

…

To: Edward Cullen: ECullen me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: MCJ

I like that kid Ian. On Master Chef Jr. He's really good.

M

…

OH GOD IM SO LATE! Okay so I admit this chapter took way too long to complete, and honestly it's because I had so much trouble finding the perfect way to organically put Miri and Jacob together. Since Twilight has a love triangle and I like love triangles I wanted to introduced one that was completely organic and true to the series. I hated the way that Jacob was just like bella is hawt and has no personality I love dat. I wanted Jacob and Miri to have a real genuine connection and I wanted them to do something big, I debated between a party, another bonfire, anything—something! And then I got this idea. I wanted to show how gentle Jake could be, the softer side of Miri, the sillier side of both of them. I wanted to give Miri more attachments to Forks and less 'edward left me and I want to die'. I want Miri to love Jacob and I want Miri to love Edward. And I want Edward to love Miri and I want Jacob to Miri. At the core of the rest of the series I want there to be love; not just jealous firey passion 'I love you and want to eat you' or 'im obessed with you' love. I want 'even if im not yours im happy for you' love in the series. Since it's a love triangle, I want to choice between the two to be difficult. I want it to be painful to choose, I want you lovely readers to ask find which one Miri should be with, to see how each relationship is different, how Miri is different with Edward and Jacob. I know some of you reading this are like "FUCK YOU sonderful! I HATE THIS! THIS SUCKS!" and if you want to stop reading then fine. But if you hate this and keep reading I promise that I'm working hard to make sure that this rendition of New Moon is good, heart wrenchingly, page turning-y, stay up all night reading good. If you hate this please let me know why, if you love this let me know, if you're intrigued let me know, if you're iffy and want to see how this ends up and whats in store for the rest of the book let me know. Please review, a smiley face, a frowny face. I want to know what you think. Love u & c u l&tr.

Ps. Im also working on the next chapter of 'Of Wolves And Wisdom' I have like 6 chapters up already, read and review that if you hadn't already.


	6. DECEMBER

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

DECEMBER

To: Edward Cullen: ECullen me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: December

It's December now, and ur still gone. I'd kinda… I think… hoped you'd be back by now. Even if we aren't together romantically, I still miss you Edward. You were my friend before we started secretly dating… I miss you as my friend… and tutor. I don't think I ever truly thanked you for helping me in all my classes so I didn't have to go to summer school (I know I still went, but).

Its cold, almost as cold as you. It was snowing earlier, but now its just rain. I have plans later today; you remember Jacob Black? The guy I spent the Master Chef Junior premier with; we have plans to hang out today. We're going to the Port Angeles Mall to buy holiday presents and see a movie.

M

…

Miri's Holiday Present List:

Dad and Prissy please DON'T LOOK or you'll spoil the surprise!

Dad- _Murder in the First; the arrest of a serial killer by a small town sheriff by Dennis Harring_ (author of other police officers biographies)

Prissy- bath relaxation kit (preferably in a wicker basket)

Mom- some book about raising an infant

Steve- batteries or soap

Edward-

Jess- gift card to Forever 21

Angela- slippers

Mike- cover 1 of his shifts, no questions asked

Eric- gift card to Game Stop

Tyler- $50 to his snow tire fund

Jake- pizza and a movie together subscription to a car magazine

Grace- infant hat (?)

Gramps- zz top cd (signed by Gibbons, Beard, and Hill)

Grams- guitar signed by GRACE SLICK (thanks ebay!)

…

To: Miri Swan: RisingSun me . com

From: Me: MotorcycleJake me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Movie

You owe me another movie, one where I don't have to shove popcorn in your mouth to keep you from yelling at the screen. STOP YELLING AT THE SCREEN AND JUST WATCH THE DAMN MOVIE

J

…

To: Jacob Black: MototcycleJake me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Re: Movie

Ex-cuse meee? But if I don't yell at the screen then the actors wont hear me! If I yell they might hear me and take my damn advice! Also name the movie and we'll go

M

…

To: Miri Swan: RisingSun me . com

From: Me: MotorcycleJake me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Re: Re: Movie

THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU THE MOVIE WAS ALREADY SHOT AND EDITED

…

To: Jacob Black: MotorcycleJake me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Movie

THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO THINK! DON'T BE FOOLED

…

To: Me: RisingSun me . com

From: Jacob Black: MotorcycleJake me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: What?

What the fuck kind of drugs are you on?

…

To: Jacob Black: MotorcycleJake me . com

From: Me: RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Re: What?

Birth control, I told you that after we watched the Master Chef Jr premier… anyway its not drugs. Ive been watching conspiracy theory videos online and on youtube, duh

…

Jake wrapped his arm around as the movie played. I leaned into him, he was so warm and the theatre was cold. I popped more popcorn in my mouth, he shouldn't have picked a horror movie. There were so many things I could yell at the actors; _Jesus Christ you fucking b-list actress either die or put your keys in the ignition it's not a hard choice!_ More popcorn went into my mouth. Too much stupidity, _STOP SPLITING UP!_

 _LEAVE YOUR GOTDAMN SISTER BEHIND JENNA! YOU DON'T NEED HER! SAVE YOUR SELF. Owen stop being a bitch and use the fucking base—and you ran off. I hope you die._

I looked down at the large popcorn in my lap. Empty, we had about twenty minutes left in the movie and Jake and I ate the entire large popcorn. Now I was going to have really keep my mouth shut. The agony.

…

NOT SENT:

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: (no subject)

I think ive stopped missing you. I still think about you now and again, but I cant keep pretending that you exist for me when you don't. Youre not easy to get over, your easy to break up with. But I didn't really do that. Im sorry if emailing you is agonizing, and im sorry if not emailing you is agonizing. I hope, in time, (when im like 30 and old) that our relationship and you leaving will be something we both forget. But I don't think im going to forget, and I hope you don't either.

Happy holidays,

M

…

I looked at the screen, were I had written my last email to Edward. My last apology to him, my last request to him. I had been working on all day. A waste of a Saturday off, but I couldn't not email him goodbye. It was too short to have taken me as long as it did, and too long to say what I wanted. I saved the email as draft.

…

"Hello?" I heard Jake say sleepily into his phone.

"There's been a terrible accident!"

"What?" He sounded alert instantly now, "What's going on? Is Miri okay?"

"This is Miri, and no there's been a terrible accident. I told you that." I said into the phone.

"What, Miri? I'm going back to bed."

"No, I have to tell you!"

"What is it that couldn't wait till sun up? It's 3am."

"I know. But there's been a travesty!"

"Okay, what happened, get to the point!"

I took a deep breath, "Okay, so you know how I found the guitar signed by Grace Slick on eBay?"

"Yeah, you haven't shut up about it."

"Thanks for listening, I appreciate it." I to him, "Anyway I've been keeping up with the bids, because I have to have it. Well some asshole who calls himself 'Chopin's Nocturne' swooped in at the last second and won the auction."

"Okay, and?" He sounded so tired.

"What do you mean _and_?" I on the other had was so alert, awake, and enraged.

"I mean, I'm tired. I want to sleep. There's nothing you can do short of going back in time and re-bidding, but that's pretty unlikely. So you have to find something else by Grace Slick for your Grandma."

"But this was the most perfect gift. And I'm devastated."

"Okay, well go to sleep and I'll console you tomorrow."

"Ugh, fine." It was too late, he had already hung up on me.

…

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RIsingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Holiday Surprise

I got a Grace Slick Guitar today… The same guitar that I furiously bid on eBay for, that same guitar that I lost. That was you, wasn't it? Your Chopin's Nocturne. Aren't you. Thanks.

M

…

So this is how he chooses to communicate with me, by giving me Grace Slick Guitars. I stared down at the box with my name on it. The label that held his address was ripped off, my name in its place. The authentication certificate from the San Francisco music shop. Everything about this guitar was the one I had wanted for Grams… and he got it for me. I couldn't send him an email asking him to forget-not-forget me… He still loved me, that much I was certain, at least he still loved me enough to get me an important gift… The question I now had to ask myself was how much I still loved him.

…

Oooohhhh, im late again. #yolo, and using yolo ironically. I keep taking writing intensive courses which means I can't work on fics as much as I want. And also I should have updated around thanksgiving but I didn't. three kisses to who guessed that Edward was Chopin's Nocturne. Or is he? I working more on characterization for future chapters and am currently writing. To anyone also reading 'Of Wolves and Wisdom' I currently have an unfinished, but close to finishing chapter in my computer and I will try to get it out in the next week. Love u and c u later.


	7. JANUARY

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

JANUARY

Draft Folder:

(10) Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

Jake Black; MotorcycleJake me . com

(2) Mom; RDriver elegancesalon . com

Liz; BlizzardLiz me . com

…

Liz (snow emoji, lizard emoji):

 _Are you still emailing McEmo?_

Me:

 _STOP CALLING HIM THAT_

Me:

 _And yes, but im not sending them_

Liz (snow emoji, lizard emoji):

 _What you can call him McEmo, but im not allowed to_

Me:

 _I call him Emo Eddie, not McEmo_

Me:

 _But whatever_

 _But drop it please_

Liz:

 _Two things, why is there a huge space between ur two sentences_

Me:

 _Oh, I hit space a lot for emphasis_

Liz:

 _Okay cool. But you'll never guess who asked me out_

Me:

 _Is it Jimmy?_

Liz:

 _NO KEVIN asked me out. We were in packing up our instruments and he said_

Me:

 _KEVIN ASKED YOU OUT?!_

Liz:

' _Hey Liz want to get dinner sometime?'_

 _AND I SAID YES? Should I not have_

Me:

 _You can do whatever you want_

Liz:

 _U sure, I know you went on a date with him and it was a disaster_

Me:

 _Just take separate cars lol_

…

"Happy Birthday Mir." Jake said as he entered my truck, leaving the Reservation high school behind him.

"Thanks," I said, as he fumbled with his seatbelt.

"So where do you want to go to celebrate?"

"You know there's nothing to do in Forks, right." I reminded him, "Besides, you're spending the day with me. And I'm going to do your nails."

"No, you're not!" He insisted as I drove away from the Reservation high school.

"It's my birthday!" I insisted. "You _have_ to let me do you're nails."

"I don't have to let you do anything."

…

I wrapped the nail form around his thumb, the last finger that I needed to add the acrylic to. I primed his nail, and added the acrylic gently shaping it with my brush.

"Miri, it's been ages, aren't you done yet?" Jake asked, his eyes focused on his other nails.

"No, all I've done is added the acrylic, next I'm going to add red gel polish to your nails, bake them, and then you'll be done."

"That's gonna take years."

"No, it'll take like ten minutes. You forget I'm almost an expert in nails." I formed the nail carefully to match the others.

"How do I take these off?" He asked as the acrylic dried.

"I put a peel off base coat on before I did the acrylic, remember." I peeled off the nail form carefully, and added the gel polish in thin coats.

"Okay, but how do _I_ to take these off?" He asked as I put his hand in the UV light to bake his nails.

"I have a toothpick."

"You're going to take my nails off with a toothpick?"

"Yes, it's easy."

"Then why don't you do your own nails?" He asked.

"I did," I showed him own nails. "Galaxy nails."

"You did that yourself." He frowned, "On yourself?"

"Yeah, it's not that hard. All you need is a makeup sponge, acrylic paint, like three different nail polishes." I said, baking the nails on his other hand.

"Am I done yet?" Jake asked as he admired his new red nails.

"No, I have to put the nail oil on."

"Ohmigod!" Jake rolled his eyes, "Miri, hurry the fuck up."

"It's _my birthday_." I reminded him. "You have to be nice to me."

"I'm letting you paint _my_ nails."

"It's _my birthday_." I reminded him as I ran the nail oil pen around his cuticles.

"I don't give a flying fuck."

"It's _my birthday,_ and I finished your nails, jerk."

…

"What the hell is on my sons fingers?" Billy asked at the restaurant.

Jake laughed into his water cup.

"I did his nails." I told Billy. "It's my birthday."

My dad rolled his eyes.

"It's six fifty-four." I told my dad.

My dad aimed a prolonged another eye roll at me, "Can you give it arrest."

"No."

Billy laughed into his water cup. "She's stubborn like you, Charlie."

The waitress came over to our table and dropped off our food, "I love your nails." She said to Jake.

He choked on his own breath. "Thanks, I did them myself."

I shot him a dirty look, and mouthed _asshole._

Jake blew me a kiss.

"Hi, sorry I'm late." Prissy said as she approached the table, she kissed my dad on the check and sat down in the empty chair next to him. "Happy birthday, Miri."

"Alright, it's six fifty-six." My dad groaned, "It's time for Miri to engage in the inane ritual that her mother instilled in her brain that she must celebrate her birthday at her exact birth time. Because if she doesn't, she'll have an aneurysm and die. While the rest of us know that birthday time doesn't exist and that Miri's stubborn urge to follow her mother's ritual is just as—"

"You're running out the clock on purpose!" I said.

"Just open your damn presents." My dad said, handing me the gift bags.

…

I immediately went into my room after dinner, and began writing an email to him. I didn't the send emails to him anymore. I couldn't send them to him anymore. I didn't even email him a goodbye. I figured just sending myself into an abyss of details and apologies, was better. To focus my bad moments into email upon email and not send them. Pretending to email him my inner most thoughts, missing him. Leaving out the details of my blooming friendship with Jake, leaving out my happy moments. I don't know, maybe if I pretended to tell him that my life without him was shit, it would be better for him.

…

To: Edward Cullen; ECullen me . com

From: Me; RisingSun me . com

BCC/CC:

Subject: Birthday

Im 18 today. Older than you in one way. I wish I could have celebrated one birthday with you, and that your birthday didn't have to be what it was… If I had one wish, then I might not wish for time to be turned back. I think I would wish to forget you. Not our time together. Not our relationship. But forget how much you meant—mean to me… I was going to break up with you that day. When you took me to the woods and broke up with me instead. I was planning on asking alice to help me. I was going to say 'straight up I was going to love you forever (oooh oh oh), but weve been caught in a hit and run.' Yes, I was going to quote paula. I forgive you for the heartbreak, for the almost murder, for the almost almost murder your presence has put me in… but I wouldn't trade you for mike. Fuck mike because hes boring. And fuck you for making me miss you.

…

I finished my exams. And am working still. But im going to continue updating! And were back on main book! I require at least 2 reviews btw, I haven't gotten any in a while. Please they trick me into writing and uploading faster. I need reviews because I crave attention and validation. Okay to reiterate, main book chapters coming out soon, please review. And if I didn't already say so, I changed steve and renees last name to driver. Love u and c u l8er


	8. Chapter 4

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Chapter four: Wake me up (Wake me up inside)

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible, even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging in lulls, but it does pass. For all of us. We are time travelers, walking the clocks path.

…

Dad's fist came down on the table. "That's it, Miri! I'm sending you home."

I looked up from my converse, which I was tying when he ambushed me. I stared at my dad in shock. I hadn't been following what he was telling me, I was too busy swallowing birth control (when my mom told him she put me on it, he nearly died. He told my mom that no way in hell that I was to be on birth control and there was no way in hell that his daughter was going to be a whore. And then my mom told him I was being put on it because of my famously gnarly painful periods that looked like a Tarantino movie and put me in as much pain as a critic watching a Michael Bay movie. And then he said 'oh' in a really small voice never brought it up again.), and tying my shoes.

"I am home," I said confused.

"I'm sending you to Renée, to Ivywood." He clarified.

My dad watched with exasperation as I slowly grasped his words.

"What did I do?" I said, my face crumbling. It was so unfair. I had been a good noodle for the past four months. After that first week, which of course neither of us had mentioned ever again. I hadn't missed a day of school, I'd only called off work twice. My grades were as perfect as they were ever gonna get. I never broke curfew—I never went anywhere, save for all the play-dates I had with Jake, but we didn't do much except hangout on weekends and watch movies. And I rarely served leftovers.

But dad was still scowling.

"You didn't _do_ anything. That's the problem. You never do anything. You always do something, a couple months ago you had the whole town looking for you."

"And now I'm boring? Do you want me to get in trouble? Fine, I'm eighteen. I could get a gun."

"Peach, number one, you're not getting a gun."

"You have a gun."

"I'm a cop." He reminded me, "And trouble would be better than moping. You're barely social around people, you're only social if you're with Jake Black, and then you immediately retreat into your room. When you're not in your room you're at work or school or with Jake. And then you go back to your room."

That stung more that it should. I thought I was doing so well. I didn't think I had been morose, maybe a little more introverted than usual, but not _mopey_.

"I'm not moping."

"Wrong word," He conceded, "Moping would be better—that would be doing _something_. You're just lifeless, Peach. I think that's the word I want."

That accusation struck me in the throat. I thought I'd been lively, well not lively, but not dead. I sighed and tried to put more animation into my answer.

"I'm sorry, Dad." My apology sounded flat, even to me. I'd thought I'd been fooling him. Keeping him from suffering was the whole fucking point.

"I don't want you to apologize."

"Then tell me what you want me to do!"

"Peachy," He hesitated, scrutinizing my reaction to his words, "you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."

"I know?" My grimace flashed deeply for a second before it settled into a neutral expression.

"Listen, Peach. I think that—that maybe you need some help."

"Help?"

He paused, searching for the words again, "When you're mother left," He began, frowning, "and took you with her." He inhaled deeply. "Well, that was a really hard time for me."

"I know."

"But I handled it." He pointed out. "Peach, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped you would get better." He stared at me, and I looked down quickly. "I think we both it's not getting better."

"Dad, I'm fine."

He ignored me, "Maybe, well, maybe if you talked to someone about it. A professional."

"You want me to see a shrink!" I said sharper than I wanted.

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one little bit. Have you ever considered that I'm always like this, and the only reason I was different was because of him? And now he's gone and I'm back to normal." Besides if I went to a shrink; I mean sure I could tell the truth—but only if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a cushy padded cell.

He examined my obstinate expression, and switched to another line of attack.

"It's beyond me, Peach. Maybe your mother—"

"Look," I said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight, if you want. I'll call Jess or Angela."

"That's not what I want," He argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through you seeing you try _harder_. I've never seen anyone try so hard. It hurts to watch."

"I don't understand, Dad. First you're mad that I'm not doing anything, and then you're made because you don't want me to go out." I said looking down at the table. I used my best dense voice.

"I want you to be happy—no, not even that much. I just want you to not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."

I looked up at him, my eyes flashing up with something that he couldn't deny.

"I'm not leaving." I said.

"Why not." He demanded.

"I'm in my last semester of school—it would screw everything up."

"You're a good student—you'll figure it out."

"I hate Steve, and all Grace does is shit and cry." Dad shot me a look at my language, "Besides I know you want my room to give to that _kid_."

That kid is a 10 year old boy called Michael, who kept coming into the emergency room with a bunch of bruises and broken bones. And Prissy kept calling my dad about arresting the kids' dad. And my dad couldn't do anything because the kid wouldn't file a report with my dad. And the kid's mom wasn't in the picture. But then like 2 weeks ago the dad got arrested for drunk driving and the kid was removed from his custody. And since Prissy is a registered foster parent and my dad is not they're waiting for my dad's application to be processed before they can bring him in the house; and foster him. Also they were in the process of building an extension on the house.

"This is not about him." My dad said pointedly, "And besides, we're adding an extra room off the dining room for him. You're mother's been dying to have you back."

"Steve is gross."

His fist came down on the table again. "We both know what's really going on here, Miriam, and it's not good for you." He took a deep breath, "It's been months. No calls, no letters, no contact. You can't keep waiting for him."

I glowered at him. The heat almost reaching my face. It'd been a long time since I'd blushed with emotion.

The whole subject had been utterly forbidden, and he knew that.

"I'm not waiting for anything. I don't expect anything," I said in a low voice.

"Peach—" Dad began, his voice thick.

"I have to go to school," I interrupted, standing up from the table. I walked out of the kitchen, I couldn't deal with any more conversation.

"I'll make plans with Jessica," I called over my shoulder as I strapped on my school bag, not meeting her eyes. "Maybe I won't be home for dinner. We'll go to Port Angeles and watch a movie."

I was out the front door before he could react.

…

In my haste to get away from my dad, I ended up being one of the first ones to school. The plus side was that I got a really good parking spot; my usual one; the downside was that I had free time on my hands, and I tried to avoid free time at all costs.

Quickly before I could start thinking about my dad's accusations, I pulled out my calculus book, I flipped it open the section we should be starting today, and tried to make sense of it. Reading it was worse than listening to it, but I was getting better at it. I'd spent ten times the amount of time on calc than I'd ever spent on math before. As a result, I was managing to keep in the range of a high B. I knew Mr. Varner felt my improvement was due to his superior teaching methods. And if that him happy, then I wasn't going to burst his bubble… because he had control of my grade.

…

I forced myself to keep reading the same chapter over and over again until the parking lot was full, and ended up rushing to English. We were working on _The Things They Carried_ by Tim O'Brien. I didn't really mind the fictionalized version of the Vietnam War, but the death was just getting to me. And Kiowa, dear sweet Kiowa was a welcomed change from the exhausting romances that made up most of the curriculum. I settled into my seat, pleased by the distraction of Mr. Berty's lecture.

Time moved easily while I was in school. The bell rang all too soon. I started repacking my bag.

"Miri?"

I recognized Mike's voice, and I knew what his next words would be before he said them.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

I looked up. He was leaning across the aisle with an anxious expression. Every Friday he asked me the same question. Never mind that I only called out for a couple of sick days—all vomity period related. But it wasn't a concern. I was a model employee.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, isn't it?" I said.

Having my dad point it out to me, I realized how miserable my voice sounded.

"Yes, it is," He agreed. "See you in French." He waved once before turning to class anymore.

…

I trudged off to calc with a grim expression. This was the class where I sat next to Jess.

It had been weeks, maybe months, since Jess greeted me when I passed her the hallway. I knew I had offended her with my barely social behavior, and she was sulking. It wasn't going to be easy to talk to her now—especially to ask her to do me a favor. I weighed my options carefully as I loitered outside the classroom, procrastinating.

I wasn't about to face my dad again without some kind of social interaction to report. I knew I couldn't like, though the thought of driving to Port Angeles and back alone—being sure my odometer reflected the correct mileage, just in case he checked—was tempting. Jess's mom was the biggest gossip in town, and dad or Prissy were bound to run into Mrs. Stanley sooner rather than later. When they did, they would no doubt mention the trip. Lying was out.

With a sigh, I shoved the door open.

Mr. Varner gave me a dark look—he'd already started the lecture. I hurried to my seat. Jess didn't look up as I sat next to her. I was glad that I had fifty minutes to mentally prepare myself.

…

Calc flew by even faster than English. A small part of that speed was due to my goody-goody prep this morning in the truck—bust mostly it stemmed from the fact that time always sped up when I was looking forward to something unpleasant.

I grimaced when Mr. Varner dismissed the class five minutes early. He smiled like he was being nice.

"Jess?" My nose wrinkled as I suppressed a cringe, and waited for her to turn on me.

She twisted in her seat to face me, eyeing me incredulously. "Are you talking to _me_ , Miri?"

Huh, I guess I had really drawn inward and let other conversation pass over me.

"Of course." I widened my eyes to suggest innocence, but it didn't work because I was wearing my glasses and the frames hid the innocence.

"What? Do you need help with calc?" She said, her tone slightly sour.

"No." I shook my head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you would go to the movies with me tonight. I really need a girl's night out." My words were hurried, and she looked at me suspicious.

"Why are you asking _me_?" She asked, still unfriendly.

"Well, you're a girl aren't you?" I smiled. "You're the first person I think of when I want girl time." At least she was the first person I thought of when I wanted to avoid my dad. It was the same thing.

She looked at me like I stabbed her, "Well, I don't know."

"Oh, do you have plans?"

"No… I guess I can go with you. What do you want to see?"

"I'm not sure what's playing." See that was the tricky part. I racked my brain for a clue—I hadn't seen a movie recently, and I'm sure I heard someone talk about a movie. "How about the one where Kathy Bates is the stone cold murderess."

She looked at me oddly, "Miri, that one's been out of the theatre _forever_. And it got bad public reviews. The critics were wrong."

"Oh," I pursed my lips together, "Is there anything you want to see?"

Jess's natural bubbliness started to leak out of spite as she thought aloud. "Well, there's that new rom-com that's getting good reviews. I want to see that one. And my dad just saw _Dead End_ and really liked it."

I gasped at the promising title. "What's that one about?"

"Zombies or something. He said it was the scariest thing he'd seen in years."

"That sounds perfect." I'd rather deal with real zombies than a romance.

"Okay." She seemed surprised by my response. I tried to remember if she liked scary movies, but I wasn't sure. "Do you want me to pick you up after school?"

"Sure."

Jess smiled a tentatively at me before she left. My answering smile was a little late, but I'm pretty sure she saw it.

…

The rest of the day passed quickly, my thoughts focused on planning for tonight. I knew from experience that once I got Jess talking, I would able to get away with few responses at the appropriate times.

…

The thick haze that blurred my days now was sometimes confusing. It was strange when I was with Jake the haze seemed to dissipate. After he left, everyone treated me like I was fragile, ruined, tarnished, faded, and I guess that's what I became.

I wasn't surprised when I found myself in my room. I heard the construction on the new extension down stairs. They'd been working since the beginning of December and were almost finished. I barely remembered the drive home from school, opening the front door, saying hi to Prissy. Losing track of time was the most common thing in my life right now.

I fought the haze as I turned to my closet. The numbness was more essential in some places of my life than others. I forced myself to focus on the pile of rubbish on the left side of my closet, under the clothes I never wore.

My eyes didn't stay looking on the black garbage bag that held Edwards birthday present for my car. I didn't see the shape of the stereo where it strained against the black plastic; I didn't think of how ragged and bloody my precious nails had been when I finished clawing it out of the dashboard. It was after that day I started wearing acrylic again, while my nails healed. Only recently had I switched back regular and gel polish.

…

I yanked out the old crocheted purse that I found at a thrift store in Port Angeles, and shoved the door shut.

Just as I heard a honking. I swiftly traded my wallet from my backpack into my purse. I was in a hurry, as if rushing would make time go faster.

I glanced at myself in the hall mirror (a gift from Prissy's move in, it was an antique), before I opened the door, smiling slightly. I looked cute. I'd braided my hair into a braided crown, absentmindedly, last night after my shower and it looked good even after sleeping in it and wearing it all day. I was wearing a non-band shirt with lace patchwork around the lower hem, high waisted black leggings with the moon phases on the sides and my red converse high tops. I didn't look bad. A little fancier than I'd intended for the day.

…

Thanks for coming with me tonight," I told Jess as I climbed into the car, infusing my tone with gratitude. It had been a while since I'd really thought about what I was saying to anyone besides Jake. Jess was harder. I wasn't sure which right emotions I was to use were.

"Sure. So, what brought this on?" Jess wondered as she drove down my street.

"What brought what on?"

"Why did you suddenly decide… to go out?" It sounded like she changed her question halfway through.

I shrugged, "It's been too long, you know. I'm done fading."

I recognized the song on the radio then, and quickly reached for the dial. "Do you mind?" I asked.

"No, go ahead. You're such a music snob, all those band shirts."

I scanned through the stations until I found one that was harmless. I peeked at Jess's expression as the new music filled the car.

Her eyes squinted. "Since when do you listen to non-rock oldies?"

"Since I visited my grandparents over winter break and they had a gig with their band where they did a bunch of non-rock oldies cover songs."

"You like this?" She asked doubtfully.

"No, but I can't get it out of my head, so I have to listen to it."

"So I have to suffer."

"If I had to listen to the Rat Pack, then so do you."

It would be too hard to interact with Jess normally, since I had the Rat Pack in my head since I visited Ivywood over the holidays.

"Okay…" She stared out the windshield with wide eyes.

"So what's up with you and Mike these days?" I asked quickly. The Rat Pack weren't as good as people thought.

"You see him more than I do."

Damn, the question hadn't started her talking like I'd hoped.

"He doesn't say much at work." I remarked and tried again, "Have you been out with anyone lately?"

"Not really. I go out with Conner sometimes. I went out with Eric two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes, and sensed a long story. I felt almost giddy at the opportunity to talk to my friend.

"Eric _Yorkie_! Who asked who?"

She groaned, getting more animated. "He did, of course. I couldn't think of a nice way to say no."

"Where did he take you?" I demanded, knowing she interpret my eagerness as interest. "Tell me all about it!"

She launched into her story, and I settled more into my seat, I was more comfortable. I paid attention, murmuring sympathy, and gasping in horror at the right moments. When she was finished her Eric story, she continued a Conner comparison without any prodding.

…

The movie was playing early, so Jess thought we should hit the twilight showing and eat later. I was happy to go along with whatever she wanted; after all, I was using her in a way—getting my dad off my back.

…

I kept Jess talking through the previews, so I could ignore the stupid commercials. But I got nervous. A young couple had been walking on a beach, swinging hands, and discussing their gooey emotions like no human ever would. Maybe _Dead End_ was about robots.

"I thought we picked a zombie movie," I whispered to Jess.

"This _is_ the zombie movie."

"Then why are talking like robots; and why isn't anyone getting eaten."

She looked at me with wide eyes that were almost alarmed. "I'm sure that part's coming," She whispered.

"The dialogue sucks. I'm getting popcorn. Do you want any?"

"No, thanks."

Someone shushed me from behind.

…

I took my time at the concession stand, watching the time as the new batch of popcorn was being made and debating what percentage of a ninety-minute movie could be spent on bullshit romantic exposition. I decided ten minutes was more than enough, I'd spent most of that period watching the crappy exposition. I paused at the theatre doors to readjust my popcorn into one arm instead of carrying it with the two hands I had been. I could hear the horrified screams blaring from the speakers, so I knew my estimate had been right,

"You missed everything," Jess muttered when I slid back into my seat. "Almost everyone is a zombie."

"I had to wait while they made new popcorn." I said as she took handfuls of popcorn.

…

The rest of the movie was compromised of gruesome zombie attacks and endless screaming from the handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly. I would have thought there was nothing in that to disturb me. But I felt uneasy, and I wasn't totally sure why.

It wasn't until almost the very end, as I watch a haggard zombie shambling after the last shrieking survivor, then I realized the problem was. The scene kept cutting between the horrified face of the heroine and the emotionless face of her pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance.

And I realized which on resembled me the most.

I stood up.

"Where are you going? There's like two minutes left," Jess whispered.

"I need a drink." I muttered as I raced for the exit.

…

I sat down on the bench outside the theatre door very hard not to think of the irony. But it was ironic, all things considered, that, in the end, I would wind up a _zombie_. I hadn't seen that one coming.

Not that I hadn't thought about becoming a mythical monster once—just never a grotesque, animated corpse. I shook my head to dislodge that train of thought. I knew it wasn't logical; I'd never wanted to be a vampire in the first place.

It was sad to realize that I wasn't the hero of my own story anymore, my story was over.

…

Jess came out of the theatre doors and hesitated, probably wondering where the best place to search for me was. When she saw me, she looked relieved, but only for a moment. Then she looked irritated.

"Was the movie too scary for you?" She wondered.

"My New Year's resolution was to get over my fear of scary movies." I lied, my actual New Year's resolution was to acknowledge Steve as a person not a sewer mutant, but that wasn't going so well either. "I'm coward and I tried."

"That's funny." She frowned. "I didn't think you _were_ scared—I was screaming all the time, but I didn't hear you scream once. So I didn't know why you left."

I shrugged, "I'm more of frozen scared."

She relaxed a little. "That's the scariest movie I think I've ever seen. I'll bet we're going to have nightmares tonight."

"No doubt," I said, keeping my voice normal. It was inevitable that I would. But they wouldn't be about zombies.

Her eyes flashed to my face and away. Maybe I hadn't succeeded with the normal voice.

"Where do you want to eat?" She asked me.

"I don't care."

"Okay."

…

Jess started talking about the male lead in the movie as we walked. I nodded as she gushed over his hotness, barely remembering the male-lead before zombification.

I didn't watch where Jess was leading me. I was only vaguely aware that it was dark and quieter now. It took me longer than it should have to realize why it was quiet. Jess had stopped talking. I looked at her apologetically, hoping I hadn't hurt her feelings.

But Jess wasn't looking at me. Her face was tense; she stared straight ahead and walked fast. I knew that walk. I walked that walk many times before. The most prevalent example coming last year. I watched her eyes dart to the right, across the road, and back again.

I glanced around for the first time myself. We were on a short stretch of unlit sidewalk. The little shops lining the street were all locked up for the night, windows black. Half a block ahead, the streetlights started up again, and I could see, farther down. The bright golden arches of Micky D's was what she was heading for.

Across the street there was one open business. The windows were covered from inside and there were neon signs, advertisements for different brands of beer, glowing in front of them. The biggest sign, lit in neon green, was the name of the bar—One-Eyed Pete's. I wondered if there was some pirate theme not visible from outside. The metal door was propped open; it was dimly lit inside, and the low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking in glasses floated across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the door were four men.

I glanced back at Jess. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead and she moved briskly. She didn't look frightened—just cautioned, trying not to attract attention to herself. I did the same. But out of the corner of my mind I saw someone.

I paused without thinking, looking back at the four men with a strong sense of déjà vu. This was a different road, a different road, but the scene was the same. One of them was even short and dark. As I stopped and turned toward them, that one looked up in interest.

I stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk.

"Miri?" Jess whispered. "What are you doing?"

I shook my head, not sure myself. "I think I know them…," I muttered.

What was I doing? I should be calling the police and keeping them on the line, as I ran from this memory. I should recovering from the numbness, learn to function without it. Why was I stepping, half-dazed, into the street?

It seemed too coincidental that I should be in Port Angeles with Jess, on a dark street even. My eyes focused on the short, trying to match the features on the short one, trying to match the features to my memory of the man who had threatened me that night almost a year ago. I wondered if there was any way I would recognize the man, if it was really him. That particular part of that particular evening was just a blur. My body remembered it better than I did. I felt my fear course through body, and my legs wanted to run. My hand wrapped around the police grade mace I kept on my key chain. I wanted to scream as I remembered, my body remembered the chills on the back of my neck when the dark-haired man called me 'sugar'…

There was an indefinite, implied kind of menace to these men that had nothing to do with that other night. It sprung from the fact that they were strangers and they weren't exactly trying to invite me to start a pick-up basketball game. But it was Jess's voice cracked with panic as she called me from behind.

"Miri, come _on_!"

I ignored her and continued staring. My feet couldn't move, I didn't understand why, but the nebulous threat the men presented kept me stuck in place. It was a senseless impulse, but it was the first time I'd really felt anything in the first place. So I stayed, rooted in my spot as I watched.

Something unfamiliar beat through my veins. Adrenaline, I'd realized, emerging from a long absence (not that I minded losing the stress hormone—I'd preferred not getting it in the presence of y'know death). It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time I'd stood like this, on a dark street in Port Angeles with strangers.

I saw no reason to really fear. I was just standing there; watching.

I felt Jess grab my arm, "Miri, what the hell are you doing?" She hissed.

"I'm not doing anything," I said, "I just thought I saw someone I thought I knew…"

"Are you crazy?" She asked softly, "Are you suicidal?"

That question caught me off guard, and I focused on her.

"No, I'm not." I said defensively, it was true I wasn't suicidal, "Only casually, for shits and giggles." I hadn't been suicidal at all. I'd made some jokes about it, but I never actually meant them.

I promised him I wouldn't do anything stupid or reckless, not that it mattered. He didn't know what I was doing. But I wasn't interested in hurting myself.

…

Jess's eyes were round, her mouth hung open. Her question of suicide had been rhetorical.

"Let's go eat." I encouraged her, waving her towards Mickey's. I didn't like the way she looked at me. "Seriously let's go."

She and I started walking, I turned back to watch the men who were looking at us with amused, curious eyes.

"Miri, stop this right."

I almost froze where I stood. Because it wasn't Jess's voice that I'd heard. It was a furious voice, a familiar male voice, a beautiful voice—soft like velvet even though it was irate. It was a voice I hadn't heard in a long time.

It was _his_ voice—I didn't think his name as I walked with Jess into Mickey D's. But once I heard his voice it was like my head had become clearer. It hadn't been clear since my birthday. I was aware again. Aware of sound, sight, the cold air of January (that was a new thing, Nor Cal was only chilly in the morning). The air was colder than I originally felt as it blew in gusts of strong winds against my body.

I looked around myself in shock, and then I saw him. Almost. I saw the outline of him.

"Keep walking with Jessica," He ordered, "You promised—nothing stupid."

 _Fuck off, and don't tell me what to do_. I thought as I kept walking with Jess, she looked over at me with slightly frightened eyes. No, she looked passed me at the men with slightly frightened eyes. Against the wall, the strangers had moved.

I shook my head, trying to understand. I knew he wasn't there, and yet, he felt close, close for the first time since the end. The anger in his voice, the concern, the same familiar bullshit that I'd always yelled at him for.

"Keep your promise." He said slipping away, as if the volume of the radio was getting turned down. I was getting out of range as Jess and I walked into McDonalds.

…

I began to suspect I was having an auditory hallucination as Jess and I waited in line. The hallucination was no doubt triggered by déjà vu of a trauma.

I thought through all possibilities in my head.

Option one: I was crazy. Highly probable. Especially since I saw his outline and heard his voice.

Option two: My subconscious mind was giving me what it wanted. Wish fulfilment—a momentary relief from the void. Projecting what he would have said if A) he were here, and B) he would be a bitch when I did something he didn't like. Also possible.

Option three: it really was him, some stupid vampire power he never told me about. Highly improbable, because if it were real and he was going to ignore me like that, then that wasn't him. He wasn't like that. He would comfort me when I was sad.

I hoped it wasn't either of those options, it might be a brain tumor. He wasn't the kind of person to completely abandon me when he had another option. At least I hope he wasn't that kind of person.

My reaction was hardly sane—just stand there and watch… ridiculous. I didn't realize how much I'd missed his voice.

…

"I'll take a number four and a soda please." Jess told the cashier.

"And I'll take a number seven and a water please." I told the cashier.

"That'll be fourteen nineteen." She passed Jess the cup and me the water.

I took out my wallet and paid for both of us, and she handed me my receipt.

"We're number six-hundred and forty," I told Jess as we made our way to the drinking fountain.

I kept myself from thinking about him. I was very strict about it. Of course, I slipped. I was only human, after all. I was getting better at it. Time was good at healing. Of course the healing was a long journey. The road of healing was wrought with numbness.

I waited for pain now. I wasn't numb—I was sharp, my emotions were sharp after a few months of in-and-out numbness—but the normal pain was gone. The only disappointment was that his voice was fading.

There was a second choice.

The wise thing would be to run away from destructive—and mentally unstable—tendencies. It would be stupid to encourage to hallucinations.

But his voice was still fading, like he was in the next room.

"Miri, stay with Jess." He growled.

"I got the food." Jess said, putting the tray of food on the table.

…

I tried to start a couple of conversations while we ate, but Jess wasn't having it, she'd just lectured me on my fear-freezing and then went back to not cooperating. I must've really offended her.

…

When we got back into the car, I tried again—to get her to tell me about the parts of the movie I had missed, but instead she turned the radio back to her favorite station and turned the volume way up. So talking was out.

I didn't have to struggle to ignore the music, it was some pop song where diction was sacrificed for range… she was right, I am a music snob. So I had no idea what the singer was singing about, and didn't have to think too hear the music.

I waited for the shame to fade. For the void to consume me again, because more pain was coming. I'd broken some personal rules. Instead of forgetting, I was recalling, remembering… hearing his voice, almost seeing. That was going to cost me emotional money. I still felt alert. I needed to squeeze Molly Dolly.

But relief was the strongest emotion in my body—I felt it in the core of my being.

As much as didn't actively think about him, I didn't try to not to forget. In the dead of night, when exhaustion and sleep were mixed as I feel asleep, that was when I remembered him. My mind was a sieve, according to him, and one day I would forget him.

There was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to survive until I forgot—I had to know that he existed. Everything else was collateral, I could live with it, endure it. But I had to know that I hadn't made him up.

Was this why I forced myself to stay in Forks, why I trapped myself here. Why I'd fought my dad at the insistence to move. Or was it just my hatred for Steve the gym teacher-slash-sewer mutant… no he wasn't a sewer mutant.

I _could_ go back to Ivywood, it was bright and familiar, but how could I be sure he was real, if I was there?

I forbid myself to remember him, just acknowledge that he'd existed, but I couldn't forget yet.

…

The ride home was quicker than I thought, so I was a little surprised when Jess stopped in front of my house.

"Thanks for coming out with me, Jess," I said as I opened my door. "It was fun."

"Sure." She said.

"I'm sorry about walking out and… freezing." _I'm sorry I'm not opaque yet, I didn't realize how far I'd faded._

"Whatever, Mir." She glared out the window instead of looking at me. She seemed to be growing angrier instead of getting over it.

"See you Monday."

"Yeah. Bye."

I gave up and shut the door. She drove away, without looking at me.

…

My dad was inside; waiting for me in the middle of the hall, his arms folded tight over his chest with his hands balled in fists.

"What's up, Dad." I said, casually. I ducked around him and headed for the stairs. I'd been thinking about _him_ for too long, and I wanted to be upstairs alone with Molly Dolly.

"Where have you been?" Dad demanded.

I looked at him, surprised, "At the movies, in Port Angeles. With Jess. I like I said I would this morning."

He grunted.

"Was that bad?"

He studied my face, his eyes widening as if he saw something unexpected. "Yeah, that's fine. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, "We watched zombies eat people."

His eyes narrowed.

"Goodnight."

He let me pass, and I hurried to my room.

…

I clutched Molly Dolly for a few minutes, and waited for the in-between moment as sleep and exhaustion over took me. Socializing took a lot out of me. Talking took a lot out of me. Getting out of bed took a lot out of me.

I felt my body go all tingly, and start to throb. First in my chest, like I had been punched, then running along my nerves and into my muscles; leaving me shaking like I was crying. But my eyes were dry. I felt the cry-shakes in my throat. In my chin as it started to quiver. In my lips, as they bent. I felt my lungs fill and my breath get caught in my throat. My breath was dammed and only a thin sliver could get out. Behind my eyes I felt heat… and moisture. Salty tears pooled in my eyes, not spilling.

My heart was still beating, I knew it was. It still beat even when I broke like this. Even when I was stuck in the in between moment. I curled into Molly Dolly, clutching her close to my chest. I was curled into a fetal ball. I could live through this. I always did. Though, to my credit, it came less and less.

Whatever happened tonight, whether it had been my maybe-brain-tumor-slash-ex-boyfriend, a zombie movie, it woke me up.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what tomorrow held. I mean yes I had work, but I knew tomorrow was different, expectations would be useless.

…

So I finished this at 12:39 am on 12/28. So where are my 2 reviews (at this time). If this is up before I get them then it's because it's new years eve and im nice. But I want reviews. Please. My friend gave me one. Can I get 2 reviews for this please. By the time this is up, there is a very good chance that the next chapter is almost done or im in the middle of it. so the more you review the more I write and the faster you get chapters. So I didn't get my reviews, but its 2018 and im being nice. I like putting this fic out, and I like to know people are reading… if nobodies reading then I guess I have to reason to update…

I want to write all 4 books a la Miri and its like planned tf out, reviews tell me you're reading… please review. 2 reviews that's all Im asking. Happy new year


	9. Chapter 5

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it.

Chapter 5: Cheater

"Miri, why don't you take off," Mike suggested his eyes focused off to the side, not really looking at me. I wondered how long that had been going on without me notice.

I pulled out my earbuds and made him repeat what he just said. Paula Abdul was singing to my neck.

It was a slow afternoon at Newton's, one of the pros of being a day stocker was that I could listen to music and my work was always the same. At least I wasn't one of the poor schmucks at the cashiers; they couldn't do shit, but stand at their registers and wait. At the moment there were only two customers in the store. Peak season was in the summer when a lot of customers came for camping and hiking, and etc. outside gross activities that I wouldn't do. The dedicated backpackers in the store had been debating the pros and cons of two brands of lightweight camp packs, from their conversation I'd overheard Mike talking to them about. They'd taken a break from serious pricing to indulge in trying one-up each other with their latest tales from the trail. Their distraction had given Mike a chance to escape.

"I don't mind staying," I said. I still hadn't been able to slink back into my protective shell of numbness, and everything seemed oddly close and loud today, like I'd taken cotton out of my ears. I was able to tune out the annoying dribble of the hikers with Paula.

"I'm telling you," said the thickest man with the orange beard that didn't match his dark brown hair ( _DDDYEE)_ "I've seen grizzlies pretty close up in Yellowstone, but they had nothing on this brute." His hair was matted, and his clothes looked like he'd been wearing them for a while. Fresh from the mountains.

"Not a chance. Black bears don't get that big. The grizzlies you saw were probably cubs." The second man said; he was tall and lean, his face tanned and wind-whipped into an impressive leathery crust.

"Seriously, Miri, as soon as these two give up, I'm closing the place down," Mike muttered.

"This place doesn't close until five."

"My parents left me in charge. I'm the manager on duty, and this place is dead. We're losing more money staying open, then if we closed. And I'm sending you home first."

"Are you sure?" I asked, as I locked the sport knives in the case.

"Yes. Run out while you still can."

"On all fours it was taller than you," The dye-job beard man insisted while I gathered my yet-to-be-stocked items together. "Big as a house and pitch black. I'm going to report it to the ranger here. People ought to be warned—this wasn't up on the mountain, mind you—this was only a few miles from the trailhead."

Leatherface laughed and rolled his eyes, "Let me guess—you were on your way in? Hadn't eaten real food or slept off the ground in a week, right?"

"Hey, uh, Mike, right?" Dye-job Beardface asked, looking towards us.

"See you, Monday." I whispered, "Good luck."

"Yes, sir," Mike replied, turning away from me.

"Has there been any warnings around here recently—about black bears?"

"No, sir. But it's always good to keep your distance and store your food correctly. Have you seen the new bear-safe canister? They only weigh two-pounds…"

…

I overheard more of the conversation as I went to clock out in the front instead of the machine in the back near where I locked up the weapony merchandise I was supposed to stock.

I punched in my number (#0529) and the clock asked me to confirm.

…

The doors slid open to let me out into the rain. I hunched over inside my jacket as I dashed to my truck. The rain hammering against the hood sounded unusually loud, but the roar of the engine drowned out everything else.

I didn't want to go back to my empty house. Prissy was working, Dad was working, and the construction workers were done. Last night, the first since I rose out of the abyss, was brutal. I had no desire to revisit my suffering. Sleep came slowly last night. Drowsiness hit me in waves, and when I finally fell asleep I couldn't escape the drowsiness. Like I'd told Jess after the movie, there was no doubt I would have nightmares.

I always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not plural, it was always the same nightmare. You'd think it'd go away after months, oh god…maybe I did need a shrink. The dream never failed to horrify me, and only ended when I woke up in the middle of the night panicked. I didn't tell my dad, I couldn't tell him that I'd been having a nightmare for the past how many months.

My nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone else. Nothing jumped and screamed "Boo!" There weren't any zombies, ghosts, or psychopaths. There was just me, bleeding in a dance gym. But instead of James, I was surrounded by Cullens. All looking at me. With hungry red eyes, rows of stained canines instead of normal people teeth. I always woke myself up before anything else happened in the dream. I never screamed though, to my credit. I was never a screamy scared. Maybe I couldn't stand the sound of my own high-pitch scream or maybe I wasn't wired that way.

…

I wasn't paying attention to where I was driving—just wandering through the empty side roads that would take me the long way home.

I wished I felt numb again. Not completely numb, that was just terrible… no it was worse than terrible… it was nothing. I didn't want to remember the dance gym. I really didn't want to think about all the things that'd happened in the past year. My mom's pregnancy, my move, almost being murdered. I felt tears well up in my eyes as the emotions I'd been ignoring bubbled up in my throat. I took one hand off the steering wheel and I wiped the tears out of my eyes.

 _I'll be as if I'd never existed._ The selfish bastard. His words echoed through my head. They were just words. Stupid words, which he said, in an effort to be selfless, but he was selfish. A normal break would just be too ordinary for him. But no he to be a bitch and ghost me—literally.

 _As if I'd never existed_. Stupid Flower, could steal all the pictures and mix tapes he wanted. But he couldn't get rid of my memories. If he'd ghosted me like I'd ghosted Kevin, it would be so much easier. All the physical evidence of him gone, well most of it… I still had that stupid scar on my back from where the psycho James-who-died-like-a-bitch-when-he-was-the-most-freocious-hunter-Laurent-had-ever-seen. I don't think I'd looked very different. I was still milk-white. I'd lost some weight, since he'd left—my appetite had mostly abandoned me after I came back from the woods. I could probably pass as a vampire at a distance, and then up close I was like a Monet; a mess.

As if he'd never existed? What a jackass. It was a promise made by a dramatic douche. I turned on my blinker and moved into the next lane.

I felt silly for even worrying about keeping my promise. How was he going to protect me; doing literally anything was tempting death. Driving my car—I could get in a car accident. Going to school, a fire drill—I could get trampled. A dedicated mouse could murder in my sleep. The promise I'd made to Edward was pointless. I couldn't very well control how the world around me moved. And I never did anything that would be construed as _dangerous_.

Recklessness in Forks, there was nothing dangerous in Forks. In fact I had dated the most dangerous thing in Forks, a bunch of vegetarian vampires. I leaned back in my seat and turned onto the road that would lead me to my house.

To be reckless in Forks, ha. I could drive faster than my speed limit. Could my truck handle it? Probably not. I could miss curfew? No, did that. Nothing is worse than a terrible sequel that is essentially a remake of the original.

…

I stared out of the window; it took me a minute to recognize where I was. I was on the North lane of Russell Avenue. I had just passed the Cheney's house. Across the road was the Markses. Something in their yard had distracted me.

A sign in the Markses' yard had caught my eye—a big piece of cardboard leaning against their mailbox post with black letters, scrawled in caps across it.

Sometimes, kismet happens. I stopped the car and stared at the sign.

Coincidence? Or was it meant to be? I didn't know. The dilapidated motorcycles rusting in the Markses front yard beside the hand printed FOR SALE sign. Right there existing for me.

Gramps had taught me how to ride a motorcycle last year, he got one as a gift from Led Zeppelin a bunch of years ago after he saved a bunch of destroyed amps from a particularly rowdy audience one night. He'd kept his motorcycle perfect. It was a classic Indian. He taught me how to ride—much to my dad's chagrin. My mom preferred I ride bitch instead of driving one. But Grams had said that riding bitch was below me. So Gramps taught me how to ride a motorcycle.

I knew Gramps and Grams had just bought a fancy new Honda motorcycle for Grams. I knew Gramps had been trying to convince my mom to get me a bike to ride with them. She was sick of riding bitch. Okay, so maybe it wasn't kismet, maybe it was like _The Secret_ or something. There were all kinds of ways to be reckless and stupid.

My dad's favorite words describing motorcycles. Reckless and stupid.

Dad's job didn't get a lot of action compared to cops in bigger towns. But he did get called in on traffic accidents! With the long, wet stretches of twisty highway and turning forest, blind corner after blind corner, there was no shortage of _that_ kind of bland action. But even with the turned over logging trucks, and hikers speeding in hummers making sharp turns on the road. Mostly people walked away. The exception of course was motorcycles, and dad had seen to many motorcycle victims, almost always kids, smeared on highways. He'd made me promise when I was ten to never accept a ride on a motorcycle. He didn't expect that at sixteen I would learn to ride one. He and Gramps shared words, according to Mom, who'd dated many guys with motorcycles in the years she'd been single.

…

I sloshed through the rain to the Markses' front door and rang the bell.

One of the Marks boys opened the door, the younger one, the freshman. His name escaped me. His sandy hair only came up to my shoulder.

He had no trouble remembering my name. "Miri Swan?" He asked in surprise.

"Yeah, hi. How much do you want for the bike?" I asked, jerking my thumb over my shoulder toward the sales display, "The naked Harley."

"Are you serious?" He demanded.

"Yeah, I hate riding bitch."

"They don't work."

I sighed, my patience thinning. "Dude, seriously. How much?"

"If you really want one, just take it. My mom made my dad move them to the road so they'd picked up with the garbage.

I glanced at the bikes again and saw they were resting on a pile of yard clippings and dead branches. "Are you positive about that?"

"Sure, you want me to ask her?"

It would be better to not involve adults who would mention this to my dad.

"No, I believe you."

"You want me to help you?" He offered. "They're not light."

"Okay, thanks. I only need one though."

"Might as well take both," the boy said. "Maybe you could scavenge some parts."

He followed me out into the downpour and helped me load both of the bikes into the back of my truck. He seemed eager to be rid of them, so I didn't argue.

"What are you going to do with them, anyway?" He asked. "They haven't worked in years."

"I kinda guessed that." I said, shrugging. My spur of the moment whim hadn't come with a plan intact. "Maybe I'll take them to Dowling's."

He snorted. "Dowling would charge more to fix them than they'd be worth running."

I couldn't argue with that. John Dowling had earned a reputation for his astronomical pricing; on one went to him except in an emergency. Most people preferred to go to the Jiffy Lube in Port Angeles. I'd been very lucky. When my dad had first gifted me my ancient truck, I had been worried that I wouldn't be able to afford to keep it running. But I haven't had a single problem with it, other than the screaming-loud engine and the fifty-five mile an hour speed limit. Jacob Black had kept it in great shape when it belonged to his father, Billy…

Inspiration hit, "You know what? That's okay. I know someone who builds cars."

"Oh, that's good." He smiled in relief.

He waved as I pulled away, still smiling.

…

I drove away quickly and purposefully now, in a hurry to get home before there was the slightest chance of my dad appearing, even in the highly unlikely event that he might knock off early. And Prissy was working like 36 hours straight this week so there was no chance of her coming home early.

…

I dashed through the house with my phone in hand, keys still in hand.

"Chief Swan, please." I said when the Deputy answered. "It's Miri."

"Oh, hey, Miri," Deputy Steve said affably, "I'll go get him."

I waited.

"Miri? What's wrong?" My dad demanded as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Can't I call without there being an emergency?"

"You can, but you don't. Is there an emergency?"

"No, I just wanted directions to the Blacks' place, I can't remember the address. I want to visit Jacob. I haven't seen him in a while."

When my dad spoke again his voice was happier. "That's a great idea Peachy. Do you have a pen?"

…

The directions he gave me were very simple. I assured him that I would be make it back in time for dinner, though he tried to tell me not to hurry. He wanted to join me in La Push, and with the motorcycles in my truck bed I'm pretty sure he'd have an aneurysm.

With the deadline looming over my head, I drove too fast through the storm-storm darkened streets out of town. I hoped I could get Jacob alone, Billy would snitch.

…

While I drove, I worried about what Billy would say when saw when he saw me. He would be _so_ pleased. In Billy's mind, probably I'm not a mind reader, this had all worked out better than he had hoped, probably. His pleasure at my first real break-up would remind me that I was playing on Team Single.

…

The Black's house was vaguely familiar, a small wooden place with narrow windows, and the dull read paint making it resemble a tiny barn. Jacob's head peered out of the window before I could even get out of the truck. No doubt the familiar roar of the engine had tipped him off to my secret approach. Jacob had been very grateful when my dad bought Billy's truck for me, saving Jacob for meaningless repairs on an already working car, and also from driving it when he got his license. I liked my truck a lot, even the peachy orange color. Jacob seemed to consider the lack of speed a shortcoming. But I suspected that was why my dad bought it for me, I tended to drive at least ten miles over the speed limit (suggested speed limit) whenever possible.

He meet me halfway to the house.

"Miri!" His excited grin stretched wide across his face, the bright teeth standing in vivid contrast to the deep russet color of his skin. I'd never seen his hair out of its usual ponytail before. It fell like satin curtains on either side of his broad face.

Jacob had grown into himself in the last couple months, since…I'd seen him. He'd passed the point where the soft muscles of his brown skin of his arms, his hands his face was still sweet like I remembered it, though he'd definitely grown some sharper cheekbones, his jaw was sharper too—all squared off.

"Hey, Jacob!" I felt some relief, he wasn't mad at me for what I said after that night in November.

He stopped a few feet away from, and I stared up in surprise, leaning my head back through the rain that pelted my face (thank god I was wearing my contacts).

"You grew again!" I said to the giant.

He laughed, his smiled widening, "Six five," He announced with self-satisfaction. His was deeper, but it still had the same husky tone I remembered.

"Are you ever going to stop?" I gave him a look that consisted of my lips thinned together, "Steroids will make your testicles shrink." I looked at his waist for a second then back at his face.

"You've already seen my testicles." He grinned, "I can show you them again to prove I'm not roiding. Come inside! You're getting all wet."

He led the way, twisting his hair with his big hands as he walked. He pulled a hair tie from his wrist and wound the bundle of hair.

"Hey Dad," He called as he ducked to get through the front door. "Look who stopped by."

Billy was in the tiny square living room, a book in his hands. He set the book in his lap and wheeled himself forward when he saw me.

"Well, what do you know! It's good to see you, Miri."

We shook hands, mine lost in his wide grasp.

"What brings you out here? Everything okay with Charlie?"

"Oh yeah, everything is fine. I just wanted to see Jacob."

Jacob's eyes brightened at my words. He was smiling so big it looked like it would hurt his newly sharp cheeks.

"Can you stay for dinner?" Billy was eager now too.

"No, I've got to feed my dad, you know. Prissy is working nights this month—she's not happy."

"I'll call him now." Billy suggested. "He's always invited."

No, if he called my dad would see the naked Harleys in my truck.

I laughed my discomfort off, "It's not like you'll never see me again. I promise to come back soon—so much you'll get sick of me." After all, if Jacob could fix the naked Harley, I'd have to teach him how to sit bitch.

Billy chuckled in response. "Okay, maybe next time."

...

"So, Miri, what do you want to do?" Jacob asked.

"Whatever. What were you doing before I interrupted?" I was comfortable here. It was familiar, but only distantly. There was no pain here, only euphoric alcoholism.

Jacob hesitated, "I was just heading out to work on my car, but we can do something else…" His eyes glimmered mischievously. I knew the something else he was talking about.

"No, that's perfect!" I said, before I got his hopes up. "I'd love to see your car."

"Okay," He said, hopes up. "It's out back, in the garage."

 _I have to deal with another guy who thinks car fucking is hot._ I thought myself. I waved at Billy, "See you later."

…

A think stand of trees and shrubbery concealed his garage from the house. The garage was no more than a couple of preformed sheds that had been bolted together with their interior walls knocked out. Under this shelter, there was what looked like a completed car raised on cinderblocks. I recognized the symbol on the grille.

"What kind of Volkswagen is that?" I asked.

"It's an old Rabbit—1986, a classic."

"How's it going?"

"Almost finished," He said cheerfully. And then his voice dropped into a lower key. "My dad made good on his promise last spring."

"Cool."

He seemed to understand my reluctance to open the subject. I tried not to remember last May at the dance. Jacob had been bribed by his father with money and car parts to deliver a message there. Billy had wanted me to stay a safe difference from my boyfriend at the time. But it didn't mean anything in the end, I was safe now.

"Jacob, what do you know about motorcycles?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Some. My friend Embry has a dirt bike. We work in it together sometimes. Why?"

"Well…" I pursed my lips as I considered. He'd been quiet about what happened in November, or at least quiet to my knowledge. The real question—is he a snitch. "I recently acquired a couple of naked Harleys, and they're not in the greatest condition. I wonder if you could get them running?"

"Cool." He seemed truly pleased by the challenge. His face glowed. "I'll give it a try."

"The thing is," I explained," My dad doesn't approve of motorcycles. Honestly, he'd probably bust a vein in his forehead if he knew about this. So you can't tell your dad. Because my dad would have an aneurysm."

"Sure, sure." Jacob smiled. "I understand,"

"I'll pay you." I continued.

This offended him. "No, I want to help. You can't pay me."

"Well… how about a trade, then?" I was making this up as I went, but it seemed reasonable enough. "I only need one bike—and I assume you need lessons, too. So how about this? I'll give you the other bike and teach you how to ride a motorcycle."

"What do you mean that, _you'll_ give _me_ lessons? I know how to ride a motorcycle."

"Everybody knows how to sit bitch. I _actually_ know how to ride a motorcycle. Like, I have the license registration to prove it."

"Uh-huh." He said, stretching the sounds.

"Wait a sec—are you legal yet? When's your birthday?"

"You missed it." He teased, narrowing his eyes in mock resentment. "I'm seventeen. Besides you already kind of gave me a present."

"Seriously, that joke is dead. And I'm sorry about your birthday."

"No problem, I missed yours. What are you a thousand?"

"Yeah, and a bag of pretzels."

"We'll have a joint party to make up for it."

"Sounds like a date." His eyes sparkled at the word.

I needed to reign in the enthusiasm before he got the wrong idea—but it had been a long time since I'd felt like myself.

"Maybe when the bike are finished—our present to ourselves," I added.

"Deal. When will you bring them down?"

I bit my tongue, "They're in my truck now."

"Great." He seemed to mean it.

…

We eased around from the east, sticking to the trees when we were in the view of the windows, affecting a casual-looking stroll, just in case. Jacob and I unloaded the bikes swiftly from the truck bed, wheeling them one by one into the shrubbery where I hid. It looked too easy for him—I'd remembered the bikes being much heavier than that.

"These aren't half bad," Jacob appraised as we pushed them through the cover the trees, "This one here will actually be worth something when I'm done—it's a naked Harley Sprint."

"Yeah, I know my bikes. Besides it's yours now."

"Really, are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"These are going to take some cash, through." He said frowning down at the blackened metal. "We'll have to save up for parts first."

" _We_ nothing," I disagreed. "If you're doing this for free, I'll pay for the parts."

"I don't know…" He muttered.

"I've got a job and some money saved up, you know." _So much for my nail polish fund_. I wasn't going to spend my college fund. I needed that.

Jacob just nodded. This made all perfect sense to him.

…

As we skulked back to the makeshift garage, I contemplated my luck. Only a teen boy would agree to this: deceiving both our parents while repairing dangerous vehicles using money meant for getting new stamping plates, nail polish, nail vinyl's, nail decals, and peel off basecoat. Cool that he didn't ask about what money I had saved up. Jacob was a gift from the gods.

…

Thank you all for reviewing and encouraging me to keep going. I wanted to update this earlier but I was in school and I got busy. I want to write another chapter before spring break is over! I really was doubting people reading, and to the people who reviewed you made my day, made me smile, and more importantly you made me continue. I was also wondering if you guys would be interested if I started diversifying, like doing different OCs, crossovers, different fandoms. I feel like I've built myself into a brand, and a Charmed fanfic wouldn't work or something. Idk, let me know if you'd be interested in reading something from a different fandom. Or if you'd be interested in something more…fantastical, im talking all magic/no human AU.


	10. Chapter 6

If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Chapter 6: Friends (I'll be there for you)

The motorcycles didn't need to be hidden any further than simply placing them in Jacobs shed. Billy's wheelchair couldn't maneuver the uneven ground separating it from the house.

Jacob started pulling the first bike—the naked red one, which was destined for me—to pieces immediately. He opened up the passenger door of the Rabbit so I could sit on the seat instead of the ground. While he worked, Jacob chattered happily, needing only the lightest of nudges from me to keep the conversation rolling. He updated me on the progress of his junior year of school, running on about his classes and his two best friends.

"Quil and Embry," I interrupted. I was sitting on the ground now, watching his large hands delicately and dexterously maneuver tools and bike parts. "Those are names."

He laughed, "Quil's name is a hand-me-down, and I think Embry got named after a soap opera star. I can't say anything though. They fight dirty if you start on their names—they fight dirty."

"Well now, obviously, I have to make fun of their names, so cool friends." I raised an eyebrow, deviously.

"No, no they're great. Just don't mess with their names."

"You and I both know I can't just leave it."

Before he could respond a voice called out in the distance. "Jacob?" Someone shouted.

"Is that your dad?"

"No." Jacob ducked his head, and it looked like he was blushing under his brown skin. "Speak of the devils." He mumbled. "My friends."

"Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool," I repeated the same word quickly, showing him my enthusiastic sarcasm.

…

We waited in short silence until two dark-skinned boys strolled around the corner into the shed.

One was slender, and almost as tall as Jacob. His black hair was chin-length and parted down the middle, one side tucked behind his ear while the right side swung free. I'll be the first to admit, I was jealous of his hair. Somehow he was able to pull of the middle shoulder length part, something I couldn't do. The shorter boy was burlier. His white t-shirt strained over his well-developed chest, and he seemed gleefully conscious of the fact. His hair was so short it was almost a buzz cut. I was not jealous of his hair.

Both boys stopped short when they saw me. The thin boy glanced swiftly back and forth between Jacob and me, while the brawny boy kept his eyes on me, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, guys," Jacob greeted them halfheartedly.

"Hey, Jake," The short one said without looking away from me. I made my eyes go wide and gave a white person thin-lipped smile. His grin got more impish. That made me break, and I giggled. He winked at me, "Hi, there."

"Quil, Embry—this is my friend, _Miri_." He emphasized my name, like he'd been gossiping about me.

Quil and Embry, who I still didn't know who was who, exchanged a loaded look. The same kind of look I gave my best friend Lizzie, from Ivywood, when she and I saw that our ninth grade English teacher was a tweed wearing hottie (you know for ninth grade girls who think recent grad school grads who are pretentious and wear tweed are hot. It was a dark time).

"Charlie's kid, right?" The brawny boy asked, not to be confused with the paper towel brand. He sat next to me and held out hand.

"Ya." I agreed, shaking his glove of a hand. His grasp was firm; it looked like he was flexing his bicep.

"I'm Quil Ateara," He announced grandly before releasing my hand, and getting off the ground.

I looked at Jacob, and incredulously "Isn't that a hemorrhoid cream?" I looked back at Quil Ateara.

He said nothing. I swear I could see annoyance rise, like in the old cartoons.

"Yeah, I think I've seen commercials for Quilateara. Like, they give it to old people who have trouble wiping their geriatric ass, so they get hemorrhoids." I looked back at Jacob.

I saw his jaw tighten, and his eyes gleam with laughter.

"Isn't their jingle something like," I looked back at Quil, "'Quilateara for when your ass is raw.'"

I heard Jacob take a deep soothing breath.

"What the fuck kind of name is Miri?" He asked.

"A nickname."

"It's not even a name! It's a species of beetle." He insisted.

"That's why it's a nickname." I had to end it, because Jacob burst into laughter, "I'm fucking with you man, seriously. And you took it, we can be friends. Jacob told me you didn't like it when your name was made fun of, so I had make fun of it."

Quil looked more at ease at my admittance that I was screwing with him.

"Hey, Miri. I'm Embry Call—you probably figured that out, though." Embry smiled a shy smile and waved with one hand, which he immediately shoved in the pocket of his jeans.

I nodded, knowing I would have to be gentler when I made fun of his name, I didn't think he could handle a life-alert joke (who do you Embry call when you can't get up? Embry Call life alert, without life alert, I would be dead.) "Embry Call, yes… that is also a name."

He definitely took my joke better than Quil, but probably because he knew what I was up too.

"Seriously, though," I said, "If it makes us even, I used to eat candles." I admitted casually. "Do with that what you must."

" _Seriously, this_ the girl that you lost your—" Quil started saying to Jacob before being elbowed by Embry.

"I only ate the candles, because they smelled good and when you're four things that smell good also taste good. What can I say, I was wrong. And also four." I said, ignoring that fact that Jacob definitely told his friends that we slept together. I should get a plaque made that says 'Virgin-Taker'. Or something similar. "It's nice to meet you anyway."

"So what are you doing anyway?" Quil asked, still looking at me. He had a satisfied look on his face, like he knew my deepest, darkest secret and could drop kick me with it; whenever.

"Miri and I are going to fix up these bikes," Jacob explained inaccurately. But _bikes_ seemed to be the magic word. Both boys went to examine Jacob's project, drilling him with educated questions. Many of the words I were words that I had never heard before, like alternator and brake pedal. I figured I had to be really into cars and stuff to understand the excitement.

I checked my phone, while they were still immersed in motorcycle parts and pieces when I realized that I needed to go home and cook for my Dad. I got up gracefully, ass first.

Jacob looked at me apologetically, "We're boring you, aren't we?"

"Nopers." I said, and it wasn't lying. "I just have to go cook for my Dad."

"Oh…well, I'll finish taking these apart tonight and figure out what more we'll need to get started rebuilding them. When do you want to work on them again?"

"Could I come back tomorrow?" Sundays were the bane of my existence. Simply because it was homework day.

Quil nudged Embry's arm and they exchanged grins.

Jacob smiled in delight, "That would be great."

"If you make a list, we can go shop for parts," I suggested.

Jacobs smile fell. "I'm still not sure I should let you pay for everything."

I shook my head. "No way. I'm the sugar daddy in this. You provide the service, and I shower you with car parts and junk."

"That doesn't seem right, especially because you would be a sugar momma."

Embry and Quil made giggle faces without actually giggling.

"Jake, if I took it to a mechanic, do you know how much it would cost me?" I asked.

He smiled. "Okay, well I guess you're getting a deal."

"Not to mention, I'm teaching you how to ride bitch." I added.

Quil grinned widely at Embry and whispered something I didn't catch. Jacob's hand flashed out to smack the back of Quil's head. "That's it, get out." He muttered.

"No, really, I have to go." I protested, heading towards the door. Part of the reason I also needed to run out was my dad and Prissy's potential foster kid, Michael. He was coming over for dinner with his social worker.

…

As soon as I was out of sight, I heard Embry and Quil chorus, "OOOOoooooh!" like I had been called to the principal's office.

The sound was brief because I immediately heard slaps and a couple of "ouch"es and "hey"es.

"If either of you set as much as one toe on my land tomorrow…" I heard Jacob threaten. His voice was lost as I walked through the trees.

I chuckled quietly. Then I was actually laughing. Laughing!

…

I beat my dad, the social worker, and Michael home. When they walked in I was just taking the fried chicken out of the pot and was laying on a pile of paper towels.

"Hey Dad, Ms. Roz." I turned back to the lift another piece of chicken onto the towels. "S'up Michael."

Shock flitted across his face for a second. I hadn't really acknowledged Michael before. In fact I'd mostly figured that my dad wasn't going too approved because of his and Prissy's crazy schedules. But he did, and the construction to the back of the house was nearly done. All it needed was some furniture.

"Hey, honey." He said to me then turned to the social worker. "I'm going to lock my gun up, I'll be right back."

"Miriam what was it like growing up with Chief Swan?" Ms. Roz asked me.

"I didn't really live with him until last year," I admitted, "He and my mom divorced when I was a baby. And my mom and I lived with my grandparents in California. But when I came up here it was really good. And he always made time to come and see me when I was in California."

"Okay. Do you know where Chief Swan keeps his gun safe?" She asked.

"No." I finished taking the chicken off out of the pan and laying on the paper towels. I went over to the oven to check the biscuits. "Do you guys want some water or soda or something?"

"Can I get a coke?" Michael whispered to Ms. Roz. Michael looked different from what I pictured. Instead a mini version of the Mike I knew, he was skinny, and small. He had very dark hair, and choppy bangs. His eyes were brown and his face was covered in freckles. He kind of looked like my dad. His shirt hung off his shoulders, and his pants were a little baggy. His shoes matched mine, black converse.

"Yeah, I got coke." I said and walked over to the fridge, "Is he allowed to have coke?"

My dad walked back into the room, his gun and gun belt locked away.

"Sure."

"Dad can you get the biscuits out of the oven?" I asked while I got a coke from the fridge.

"Sure honey."

…

We sat around the table, with steam coming up from the biscuits and fried chicken.

"Did you have fun with Jacob?" Dad asked me.

"Who's Jacob?" Michael asked, shoveling a biscuit in his mouth.

"He is Miri's friend." My dad explained to Michael, he was using his soft voice. The one he always used with kids. "He is also the son of my friend."

"Who's Miri?" Michael asked.

"Me," I said.

"I thought your name was Miriam?"

"It is, Miri is a nickname." I shrugged and bit into a fried chicken leg.

"Charlie," Ms. Roz said. She knew my dad well. She was one of the county's CPA social workers. There were a bunch of foster parents in Forks, and my dad knew Ms. Roz. Partly because her husband was Deputy Steve. I had met her last summer at the Forks Police Picnic, but I had met her as Mrs. Deputy Steve. I also met her and Deputy Steve's kids, three adopted elementary-aged kids, and twin babies that were theirs biologically. "How often does Priscilla work nights?"

"She usually works three days straight and then she's home for the remaining four days. She's only working nights this week because she's training some of the new nurses they hired." He explained.

"Miriam is your dad home in time to care for you?" She asked.

"He usually clocks out at five and I cook dinner for us, he does KP duty." I said. "And Dad, I hope it's okay, but I'm hanging out with Jacob tomorrow too."

My dad nodded, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah.

"That's good." He said, after taking a bite of his food, "What did you do? Go to another movie in Port Angeles?"

"No, we hung out in his garage, talked, and junk. He's rebuilding a Volkswagen?"

"Aren't you working tomorrow?"

"Where do you work, Miriam?" Ms. Roz asked.

"No, Mrs. Newton cut my hours. I'm not working this Sunday." I turned to Ms. Liz who was gently eating her food, "I work at Newtons."

"Yeah, Billy mentioned he was excited to work on something new."

…

My Dad turned to Michael, "So Michael if it's okay with Ms. Roz, what do you say about both of you guys staying a little later than usual."

"Why?"

"Ms. Roz told me you really like hockey, especially the San Jose Sharks."

"Yeah, they're playing a game tonight!" Michael said, enthusiastically. "Timo Meier is the best!"

"Really?" My dad feigned surprise, "Well you know they're up against the Caps tonight!"

"Yeah, I hate the Caps! They're stupid!"

"So, if Ms. Roz says it is okay, what do you say we watch the Sharks vs the Caps tonight?"

"Can we Ms. Roz?" Michael turned to look at his social worker. "Please!"

"I don't see why not." Ms. Roz said looking at his watch. "We might have to miss the end if it goes into overtime. I'll call your foster mother now."

"What about you Peach? Are you gonna watch the game with us?" My dad asked me.

"I got stupid homework to finish." I rolled my eyes, "Mr. Berty is on my case because I didn't do the reading packet."

My dad nodded, "Okay, when you finish, come down and join us."

"I can do my homework on the kitchen table instead of my desk." I agreed.

…

I did my homework on the kitchen table, while my dad and Michael watched the game. It was kind of weird watching my Dad be a good dad. Not that he wasn't a good dad to me when I was, like, 8, it was just like he never got the chance. I had been his part time kid for a long time.

"Do we have to go, Ms. Roz?" Michael asked, "'Cause there's only forty-five minutes left, and Angie won't mind if I'm late. She's got four other kids to watch, and they're all teenagers."

"Yes, we can meet with Chief Swan and Ms. Priscilla next week."

"Does that mean I'm moving here?" He asked.

"It means we're close to getting you into a permeant placement."

"And that's good?" Michael squeaked. He couldn't really help it. He was young and all his voice did was squeak.

"That's right, buddy," I heard my dad say. "It's very good. It also means we can watch the other hockey game."

...

While my dad bid Ms. Roz and Michael goodbye and I went to my room. I pulled off my clothes and put on a big t-shirt from a Salt n' Pepa concert that I found in the Forks thrift store. I went to my bathroom took out my contacts, put on my glasses, and brushed my teeth. I missed my mouth once; smearing some toothpaste on my cheek. The afternoon's sense of well-being seemed to rise, not drain from my system.

I wasn't numb anymore. I wasn't mourning anymore. I laid down in my bed and held Mollie Dolly close. I closed my eyes and…the next thing I knew, it was morning.

…

I looked at the pale silver light coming through my window, surprised.

I slept for what felt like a second. For the first time in four months, I'd slept without dreaming. Or at least remembering my dreams.

I laid in my bed a few more minutes, relishing that restfulness of my sleep. Still I waited for the other shoe to drop. For Mr. Vampy to come back and shatter me again. For Jake to say "thanks for the sex, but that's all I want. Toodles." Logically that wasn't going to happen, because Jake and I had been hanging out platonically a lot since November and he didn't once say toodles. Or thank me for anything that awkwardly.

I rolled over in my bed, sick of everything not a foot away from my face being blurry and put on my glasses. With clear vision I saw my room. With suddenly magical clear eyes I saw my room. It looked to clean to be mine. There were no loose t-shirts hanging over the half oven dresser drawers. In fact the dresser was shut. There were no water bottles littering the floor, there were discarded jeans and belts on the floor. My shoes were all in their corner, but just around the shoe rack. My work backpack was in my chair, and my actual backpack was on the floor. My laptop was plugged in, but off and not in sleep mode. My hamper wasn't even over flowing, it was almost empty… had I really kept up with my laundry?

My room was too tidy for me, it was like I didn't live there.

…

I pulled on a flannel shirt today, and the same jeans from last night because jeans don't get dirty the same way cotton does. I was going to see Jake again today and that was something good.

…

At breakfast, my dad was being careful. Not about me or anything. But for himself. He didn't want to get his hopes up. I didn't know where Prissy was, but I'm sure she was sleeping.

He had trained his eyes on his eggs. "What are you up to today?" He asked, moving his mind from Michael and paying attention to me.

"I'm going to see Jake again today."

He nodded, "Oh, yeah, you mentioned that."

"I can stay here, if you want."

He frowned at me, "No, no. Go have fun. Harry was going to come up and watch the game with me anyway"

"Maybe Harry could give Billy a ride up. Hashtag boys day." I suggested.

"That's a great idea."

…

I wasn't sure what game of magic ball the muscley men must have—sport—was on. But he headed over to the phone and I donned my rain-jacket. My checkbook felt awkward in my thrifted purse. But that was because I got Minnie and Mickey Mouse checks; they were free when I opened up my student account at Ivywood Bank Trust.

Outside, the rain came down like a waterfall. I drove slower than I wanted too, but the raining was obscuring my windshield faster than my wipers could wave. I made it through the muddy lanes to Jake's house. Before I'd killed the engine, the front door opened and Jacob came running out with a huge black umbrella.

He held it over my door while I opened it.

"Charlie called—said you were on your way," Jacob said with a grin.

"Hi." I smiled, the icy rain didn't touch me as he held the umbrella from over our heads.

"Good call on inviting my Dad up." He held his hand up for a high five.

I slapped his hand, "Stroke of genius."

…

Harry showed up to pick up Billy a couple minutes later. Jacob took me on a tour of his basement room—that I'd already seen—while we waited to be unsupervised.

…

"So where to, Mr. Stay Puff Marshmallow Man?" I asked as soon as the door closed behind Billy.

Jake pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. "That's not a car thing, it's from _Ghostbusters_."

"I don't know car things. But if you wanted me to tell you the best indie brands for nail polish, I got your back."

"I don't care about those things. But we'll start at the dump first, see if we can get lucky. This could get a little expensive," He warned, "Those bikes are going to need a lot of help before they'll run again." My face didn't look worried enough, so he continued. "I'm talking more than a hundred dollars here."

I nodded slightly, "I've literally spent more than that on nail decals. We're covered man."

…

It was a very strange day. I enjoyed myself. Even at the dump, Jake kept making me laugh, I kept tripping, and I made him laugh too. Even in the rain and ankle-deep mud. I think being around Jake was what made the day so fun.

It was Jacob himself. It was impossible to be upset around him. He carried his happiness around like an aura sharing with everyone around him. It was natural being around him; like he was an earthbound sun being within his gravitational pull, Jacob warmed them. It was natural, a part of who he was.

Even when he commented on the gaping hole in my dashboard, it didn't make me panic or feel sad.

"Did the stereo break?" He wondered.

"No." I said, "I just took it out."

He poked around in the cavity. "Who took it out? There's a lot of damage…"

"I did." I told him.

He laughed, "Maybe don't touch the motorcycles too much."

"Won't be a problem."

…

According to Jake, we got lucky at the dump. He was very excited about several grease-blackened pieces of twisted metal he found; I was just as impressed, I thought it was garbage, but he could tell what it was.

From there we went to the Checker Auto Parts down in Hoquiam. In my truck, it was more than a two hour drive south on the winding freeway, but the time passed quickly with Jacob. He chattered about his friends and his school, and I made sure to interrupt him and ask questions.

"I'm doing all the talking." He complained after a long story about Quil and the trouble he'd stirred up by asking out a senior's steady girlfriend. "Why don't you take a turn? What's going in Forks? It's gotta be more exciting than La Push."

"Wrong." I sighed, "There's nothing really happening. Nothing ever happens in Forks. The funniest thing that happened was my friend Mike broke a finger re-stocking protein powder, he snap chatted the entire thing. And it was boring. Besides I like your friends. Quil's fun to mess with.

He frowned. "I think Quil likes you."

I laughed, "He's a little young for me."

Jacobs frown deepened. "He's not that much younger than you. Just a year and a few months."

I had a feeling we weren't talking about Quil anymore. Jesus, I needed to get a plaque made— _Virgin Taker_. I stayed teasing. "Sure, but, considering the difference my reaction versus his reaction to the teasing, I don't think he's old enough. I think we have to wait a couple years until he's mature, let's count in dog years."

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Okay but if you're going to get picky like that, you have to average in size too. You're so small, I'll have to knock ten years off your total. So that makes you like eight."

"I'm five foot eight!" I inisited, "Not shirmpy, taller than average! It's not my fault you and you're friends are freakishly tall."

…

We bantered like that until Hoquiam, still arguing over the correct formula to determine age—I lost two more years because I didn't know how to change a tire. But I gained a year back for being able to cook without chopping my hand off. Also I got five years back for music taste, although I had to argue very hard for Paula. Until we were in Checker, and Jacob had to concentrate again. We found everything left on his list, and Jacob felt confident that he could make a lot of progress with our haul.

…

By the time we got back to La Push, I was twenty-four and he was thirty—he definitely weighting skills in his favor.

I hadn't forgotten the reason for what I was going, I wanted to get out of my house, spend more times with friends… become myself again. And drive a vehicle that went over sixty miles an hour.

…

Billy wasn't back yet so we didn't have to be sneaky-sneaky when we unloaded our day's spoils. As soon as we had everything laid out on the plastic floor next to Jacob's toolbox, he went right on with his work, still talking and laughing while his fingers combed expertly through the metal pieces in front of him.

Jacob's skill with his hands was fascinating. They looked too big for the delicate tasks they performed with ease and precision. While he worked he seemed almost graceful. Unlike when he was on his feet; there, his height and big feet made him nearly as dangerous as I was.

Quil and Embry did not show up, so maybe his threat yesterday had been taken seriously.

The day passed to quickly. I got dark outside the mouth of the garage before I was expecting it, and then we heard Billy calling for us.

…

I jumped up to help Jacob put things away, hesitating because he wasn't actually putting things away.

"Just leave it," He whispered softly into my ear sending a shock down my spine. "I'll work on it later tonight."

"Don't forget your schoolwork or anything," I said, trying not to draw attention to the tingle he gave me. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea or anything, and I didn't want him to get into trouble.

"Thanks mom."

"Peach?"

Both our heads snapped up as _my_ Dad's familiar voice wafted through the trees, sounding closer than the house.

"Shit," I murmured, "Coming, Dad." I yelled to the house.

"Let's go." Jacob smiled, enjoying the cloak-and-dagger. He snapped the light, and for a moment I was blind.

"I can't see." I said, just as Jacob grabbed my hand and led me out of the garage and through the trees, his feet finding the familiar path easily. His hand was rough and very warm.

…

Despite the path, I dragged him. Making him trip over his feet as I tripped over mine in the darkness. So we were both laughing when the house came into view. The laughter didn't sound deep, it sounded light and superficial, but it was.

…

My dad was standing under the little back porch, and Billy was sitting in the doorway behind him.

"Hey, Dad." We both said to our prospective dads at the same time, and that got us laughing again.

My dad stared at me with wide eyes that flashed down to note Jacob's hand around mine.

"Billy invited us for dinner," Charlie said to us in an absentminded tone, "Priscilla is driving up now."

"My super-secret recipe for spaghetti. Handed down for generations," Billy said gravely.

Jacob snorted, "Yeah, I don't think _Barilla_ is a secret."

…

The house was crowded. Harry Clearwater was there too, as was his family—his wife Sue, whom I knew vaguely from my childhood summers in Forks, and his two children. Leah was a senior like me, but a year older. She was beautiful—perfect cooper skin, glistening black hair, eyelashes like feather dusters—and preoccupied. She was on Billy's phone when we got in, and she never let it go. Seth was fourteen; he hung on Jake's every word with idolizing eyes.

There were too many of us for the kitchen table, so my dad and Harry brought chairs out to the yard, and we ate spaghetti of our laps in the dim light from Billy's open door. The men talked about the fame, and Harry and Charlie made fishing plans. Sue teased her husband about his cholesterol and tried, unsuccessfully, to shame him into eating something green and leafy. Priscilla dazzled everyone with her stories. Jake talking mostly to me and Seth, who eagerly interrupted whenever Jake seemed in danger of forgetting him. Jake also kept stealing bites off my plate. All throughout dinner my dad watched me, trying to be inconspicuous about it, with pleased but cautious eyes.

It was loud and sometimes confusing as everyone talked over everyone else, and the laughter from one joke interrupted the telling of another. I didn't have to speak often, except to scold Jake for stealing my food, but when I did eat; I still wore a smile on my face.

…

This was Washington, though, and the inevitable rain eventually broke up the party; Billy's living room was too small to provide an option for continuing the get-together. Harry had driven my dad down, so we rode together in my truck on the way back home. He asked about my dad, and I told the truth—omitting the motorcycles—I did tell him Jake and I went on an adventure to find spare parts and I watched him build in his garage. And since Prissy drove her Prius over, she drove in front of us.

"You think you'll visit anytime soon?" He wondered aloud, trying to be casual about it.

"Tomorrow after school," I admitted. "I'll take homework, don't worry."

"You be sure to do that," He ordered, trying to disguise his satisfaction.

…

I didn't want to go upstairs when we got home, the more I spent time in my room; the more time I spent texting Liz about her budding relationship. Still, I relaxed at in the living room, while my dad and Prissy watching the recorded Jeopardy. I checked the email on my iPhone; there was a new message from my mom.

She wrote about her day/week. A new mommy and baby group she joined after the old one found out she was in her mid-thirties, had a teenage kid from a previous marriage, and the man/demon she was currently married too wasn't some rich real estate mogul or something of high caliber like that. Ah, California—thy pretention I miss thee. She was now in some kind of hippy mommy and baby group that annoyed the ever living Jesus out her, all the crunchy-granola-vegan-self-sufficient-sanctimonious-mommies she hated and was looking for something else. Her week working at Astaire's Salon and Spa's sister store—Crystal By the Sea Salon and Spa, her being subsequently offered the head nail tech position there but with a lot less pay than what she was used too. Another big batch of followers from her nail art Instagram page, and getting a couple of sponsor offers (which she took). She wrote about _Steve_ enjoying the season of some new sport Valley Plains Charter decided to introduce after a bunch of big donations to help repair the dance gym from last years' arson ( _oops_ ). And she and Steve were planning to take my half-sister, Grace, to Disney Land sometime after the school year ended. Which was ridiculous because Grace was like almost a year old, she couldn't even talk much yet. She barely started using real words.

Reading the whole thing was like reading a journal entry, rather than an email. Like, now I was her part time kid. And yeah, she was a baby, whatever that keeps her busy; but it felt like I was being left behind.

…

I wrote back quickly, mostly commenting about her Instagram page, and if she could get me the linear dual-chrome (in gold and black) from _Tri-Tip Nails_ (one of the companies that paid for a sponsored ad), and I volunteered information of my own—describing the spaghetti party at Billy's and Jacob's food theft. I also wrote about the motorcycles—unlike my dad, my mom was adamant that I needed to learn how to ride a motorcycle, but that wasn't because she didn't want me to ride bitch—she wanted me to learn how to improve my balance.

…

I stayed up later than I should have, mostly doing homework that I had neglected until to the last minute. But lure of my bed was stronger than the lure of my homework.

…

I woke up easily to the dim morning light that filtered through the early morning fog, but then my dreams came back to me.

I was in the dump, like yesterday, playing trash-throw (a game where you throw trash at each other), until I was in a dark wooded area with Sam Uley—the man who had pulled me from the forest floor that night, months ago. His eyes had been unfriendly, filled with some secret he didn't seem inclined to share. All he did was scrutinize me, frown, in these unfamiliar woods. Yet unlike the night months ago—he wasn't inclined to help me. My eyes were terrible in my dream—worse in reality, but in my dream I could see Sam perfectly when I looked at him straight on, but whenever I turned my head and looked at him through my peripheral vision his form changed and shifted.

…

My dad stared at me during breakfast, Prissy was taking her first day off of the week and catching up on sleep so when Michael came back on Wednesday she would be the ultimate mother. My dad staring at me at breakfast wasn't the most unusual thing, he resigned himself to be silent about my birth control use, the fact that I went on a new pill (that prevented my period entirely), made him uncomfortable and silent.

…

School was the opposite, no one stared at me anymore.

I remembered the first day I'd come to Forks High School—everyone looking at me, and how I wanted to just fade in, and be a member of the student body.

It was like I was the rest of the student body, even my teachers were used to me.

…

I listened all through the morning, except for like twenty minutes in math when my _Falsies_ got unglued and I had to go to the bathroom and fix it. I was able to catch up with the gossip I'd missed out on over the weekend. All the information was disjointed at best. So I had to consult to the gossip queen.

Jess didn't look at me when I sat down next to her in Calc.

"Hey, Jess." I said, "How was the rest of your weekend?"

She looked at me with suspicious eyes. Could she _still_ be angry? Or was she too cool for school?

"Super," She said, turning back to her book.

 _Cold shoulder_ seemed to have some literal truth to it. I could feel the warm air blowing from the floor vents, but I was still cold.

…

My fourth period class got out late, and the lunch table was full by the time I arrived. Mike was there, Jessica, and Angela, Conner, Tyler, Eric, and Lauren. Katie Marshall, the redhead junior who lived around the corner from me, was sitting with Eric, and Austin Marks—older brother to the boy with motorcycles—was next to her. I wondered how long they had been sitting together, unable to remember when this started.

I was getting more and more annoyed with myself, my internalization and astral back to Ivywood really screwed with being here last semester.

No one looked up when I sat down next to Mike, even though the chair squeaked across the linoleum.

…

Mike and Conner were talking sports—boring—and I didn't even try with that one.

"Where's Ben today?" Lauren was asking Angela. I perked up, interested. I wondered if that meant Angela and Ben were still together.

Lauren looked so different from the last time I'd paid attention to her. She'd cut off most of her blonde hair—now she had a pseudo-bob and an under shave. She looked like a punk head on a preppy Barbie doll, why did she do that? Did she get gum in it? Was this her version of teenage rebellion? Is she trying to rebrand herself? Did she get scalped by the people she made backhanded compliments too?

"Ben's got the stomach flu," Angela said in her quiet, calm voice. "Hopefully it's just some twenty-four hour thing. He was really sick last night."

Angela had, it seemed, finally gotten the courage to change her hair, and was growing out her layers.

"What did you do this weekend?" Jessica asked, not sounding as if she cared about the answer. Gossip queen she was, she also wanted all the attention for herself. So she could talk about what happened at Port Angele.

"We were going to have a picnic Saturday, actually, but… we changed our minds," Angela said. There was an edge to her voice that caught my interest.

Jess, not so much, "That's too bad," She said, about to launch into her story. But I wasn't the only who was paying attention.

"What happened?" Lauren asked the same time I did.

"Well," Angela said, seemingly more hesitant than usual, though she was always reserved, "We drove up North, almost to the hot springs—there's a good spot just a mile up the trail. But when we were halfway there…we saw something."

"Saw something? What?" Lauren's pale eyebrows pulled together. Even Jess was listening now.

"I don't know…" Angela trailed off, "We _think_ I was a bear. It was black, anyway, but it seemed… too big."

Lauren snorted. "Oh, no! Not you too!" Her eyes turned mocking. "Tyler tried to sell me that one last week."

"You're not going to see any bears that close to the resort," Jessica said, siding with Lauren.

"Really." Angela protested in a low voice, looking down at the table. "We did see it."

Lauren Snickered. Mike was still talking to Conner, not paying attention to the girls.

"No, she's right." I threw in, "We had a hiker in on Saturday who saw a bear too, Angela. He said it was huge and black and just outside of town, didn't he Mike."

There was moment of silence. Every pair of eyes at the table had turned to stare at me, like I hadn't been routinely part of the group since my break up. And yeah, my conversations had been limited to one or two people and not the group but I still wasn't not a part of the group. The new girl, Katie, had her mouth open, like, she was surprised I could speak.

"Mike?" I kicked him gently under the table, "You remember the hiker that was annoying?"

"S-sure," Mike said, stuttering for a moment. He recovered quickly, "Yeah, there was a guy who said he saw a huge black bear right at the trailhead—bugger than a grizzly." He confirmed.

Lauren harrumphed and turned to Jessica, her shoulders stiff and changed the subject.

"Did you hear back from USC?" She asked.

Everyone else looked away, too, except for Mike and Angela. Angela smiled at me tentatively, and I smiled back.

"So what did you do this weekend, Miri?" Mike asked, curious.

Everyone but Lauren looked back, waiting for my response.

"Friday night, Jess and I went to a movie in Port Angeles. And then I spent Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday down at La Push."

Their eyes flickered to Jess and back to me. Jess looked irritated. I wondered if she didn't want anyone to know she'd gone out with me, or whether she wanted to be the one to announce it.

"What movie did you see?" Mike asked with a smile.

" _Dead End_ —the one with the zombies." I grinned in encouragement, maybe some of the Ivywoo-Astral-Projection I'd been doing was forgiven.

"I heard that was scary. Did you think so?" Mike was eager to continue the conversation.

"Miri had to leave at the end, she was so freaked." Jess inserted with a sly smile.

I nodded, embarrassed. "There was so much blood, I don't do well with blood."

…

Mike didn't stop questioning me till lunch was over. Gradually, the others were able to start up their own conversations, but they still looked at me lot. Angela talked mostly to Mike and me, and, when I got up to dump my tray, she followed.

"Thank," She said in a low voice when we were away from the table.

"For what?"

"Speaking up, sticking for me."

"No problem, you're my friend."

She looked at me with concern, but not offensive concern. "Are you okay?"

His is why Angela was my best friend over Jessica (unless it came to gossip or impromptu plans—then I went to Jessica), Angela was always perceptive.

"Yeah, I'm done astral projecting into Ivywood, thanks for pulling me back here."

"I'm glad, I missed you." She said.

Lauren and Jessica strolled by us then, and I heard Lauren whisper loudly, "Oh, _joy_ , Miri's back."

Angela rolled her eyes at them, and smiled at me in encouragement.

I shrugged, "Back and better than ever." I whispered to Angela.

"What's today's date anyway?" I asked Angela/

"It's January nineteenth."

"What?"

"What is it?" Angela asked.

"A year and two weeks ago, I had my first day here." I laughed.

"Nothing's changed much," Angela muttered, looking after Lauren and Jess."

"I know," I agreed. "I was just thinking the same thing."

…

FINALLY, I UPDATED. It's been like a year (or two months or something). Below is how I remembered which was quil and which was embry…. Smeyer wasn't too good at differentiating between them after she introduced them, aside from their names and vague hair and height. That's right, Miri Charlie and Prissy are adopting a kid, bc as I said in the first book Charlie is more than a beer dad and a shadow in bellas (miri's) life. Also I will try to update OWAW (its been like a year or something) sometime this month. But my work hours are terrible and I will have to fix them first. Let me know what you think of the chapter by reviewing! Luv u and c u l8ter 3. I'll try to have the next chapter out in a week or so.

Brawny/ short hair/ shorter=quil

Tall/lanky/great hair=embry

i also want to let everyone know that Miri was not depressed at all the last couple of months/chapters i wrote, when and if she goes through a depressive episode i will write it completely differently. I wanted to write Miri as grieving the death of her relationship and turning to those she knew before emo-sexy eddie such as Jacob (whom she's known since childhood when she went to Forks to visit her dad) and her friend in Ivywood (Liz the Blizzard). I will write more about Liz in the future, but not today in this chapter. SHe was just mourning the loss of a relationship and didn't really know how to do that so she became more introverted and kept to herself when she wasn't talking to Liz or Jake or the people her friends from Ivywood (more on that later). Depression has many symptoms and people experience the symptoms differently, but I did not give Miri any symptoms that would qualify her of having major depressive disorder (MDD), i was very conscious of that (and I was taking an abnormal psych class in school so I was able have the actual symptoms list from the DSM-5 on hand when writing a bunch of the previous chapters) but that being said how Miri (or ya'know an actual real person) experiences depression is different, and if Miri's mourning period is in anyway similar to how you or someone you know experience MDD please not it was not intentional, it does NOT invalidate your/their mental health and what you've/ they've gone through to get a diagnosis or to a recovery. if you want to read this as Miri being depressed bc it makes the story better for you, be my guest. I left a lot of stuff about her sort of open for interpretation bc of how different mental health is for everyone. ANd i want to say anyone who reads this with a mental illness (or not) i will do my very best to deliver an authentic but (hopefully) non-triggering representation of mental illness and mental health in a way that's not cheesy or boring but is full of good information such as real phone numbers for hotlines and such, if i so chose to have any of the characters go through a mental health arc (and i promise i wont forget about the next chapter and be like 'harhar, shes norms agains!). If i do bring out a story line where a character has a mental illness, it won't be for shits and giggles-it will be a definitely part of the characterization and i will do what ever i can to make it real (and non-triggering) but light and entertaining. PM me if you have an concerns or questions.


End file.
